


Remnants of Time

by WingTaken, wordsturnintostories (WingTaken)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Minor Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2018-12-19 09:09:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 80,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11894556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingTaken/pseuds/WingTaken, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingTaken/pseuds/wordsturnintostories
Summary: You can also read this story on my tumblr: https://wordsturnintostories.tumblr.comSong Choice: -





	1. The Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buckyslion/ nataliarxmanxva; inappropriatepirate](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=buckyslion%2F+nataliarxmanxva%3B+inappropriatepirate).



> You can also read this story on my tumblr: https://wordsturnintostories.tumblr.com
> 
> Song Choice: -

**_Who you are._ **

 

 

_{A mask, not for concealment._

_A jacket, not the warming kind._

_Darkness, not restraining anymore._

 

_But maybe all that just depends on_

_what kind of monster you are}_

 


	2. The Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Silver Crimson Black by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _  
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

 

_**London, A week ago** _

 

Voices joined the noise of the metropolitan city that offered its obligatory honking and screeching of cars to anyone bold enough to stay up this late on a Wednesday night. The only difference to any other night in the city was that these new voices hid behind the walls of an empty and guarded office building. The voices were instructed to be kept inaudible.  
A redhead in a sand-colored business suit nodded, the command for the operation to finally begin, the result of endless preparation and diplomatic back-and-forth between the CIA and this possibly pretentious other side who claimed to possess very delicate intel.  
Agents focused their visual equipment on the other building, the building of interest. It was a small-sized office complex with a dark roof and had been determined as safe exchange location days ago. There was only one back door beside the main entrance and that same door one had been bricked up since half a decade. If anything went south, back-up would handle the situation in an instant. No one could know the government agency operated on foreign ground right now, not with these highly classified documents involved. What they had been promised could shatter the European Union, even the NATO.   
Two armed figures, provided with subtle headsets and two brown attaché cases, moved out of a bus and crossed the street. With twelve pairs of eyes focused on them, the men knew their team had their backs.   
As soon as they stood before the smaller building, they entered, took the lift to the eleventh level and, as agreed, stepped into the room with the left hand placed on the watch on their right wrist. The sign. The two men were welcomed, placed their cases on a table to reveal the enormous amount of money inside. Everything as negotiated.   
The three men who had expected the agents gave a slight nod and the first of them put away the drawn handgun in his hands. With the numbers clear in his mind, he unlocked a safe that showed the promised files. In exchange for the money. Everything in order. He took the files out and turned around.  
At the same time, a window shattered. Immediately, the men started to shoot in the window’s direction for a few seconds. After that, it stayed quiet. Nobody moved, but every heart pounded.  
All of the sudden, an object emitting a sharp, bright light flew into the room. The men went down, sought cover. Strange noises echoed through the big empty level. Noises like books falling and pens crunching under feet turned from familiar to alarming. The men knew those sounds were meant to taunt and confuse. _But maybe, maybe they were dealing with more than just one attacker and he was coming closer?_  
After a couple of seconds that sped up every heart in the room in expectation, one of the men couldn’t take the suspense anymore. He stood up and fired the entire round in his semiautomatic with closed eyes. But the room was empty apart from his colleagues, the CIA agents and him.  
Suddenly, the dazzling light disappeared, leaving all the men blind even in the darkness they’d managed to operate in before. They didn’t see the brunette hair moving through the room; they didn’t hear the near-silent footsteps nearing and moreover, they didn’t see the round trademark plates buzzing blue with electricity flying at them.   
It wasn’t long before they were all down, unable to ever stand up again. The unmistakable scent of burnt hair filled the atmosphere. Blood turned the carpet into an ocean with sticky islands.  
The attacker moved through the room with powerful strides, always staying behind the walls for cover. Every professional would’ve known this exchange was supervised and without doubt, backup was on its way by now.  
But even if they spotted this individual, they’d never find out the identity behind the shadow. All the masks, tricks and lies applied were establishing that level of stealth since a number of years.  
The shady figure moved fast, unseen and unheard, quickly grabbing the files plus both cases. In exchange, a strand of red hair and a drop of blood stayed in the room. It was a balanced exchange. Red hair and blood, all collected and stored despite unforeseen obstacles that definitely counted up to the five lives that ended today. It would lead the government on the tail of a certain Russian redhead, just like the remaining electric shockers she was known for.

When the CIA backup team had finally conquered all the stairs up to the eleventh level and entered the room that had gleamed a shrill white only a minute ago, every agent was geared up, ready to shoot the unwelcome intruder. All they found, however, was an empty office level. No visual on the attacker, not even one hint as to where he’d disappeared.  
Suddenly, glass shattered. Everyone turned around immediately, weapons ready. _They_ didn’t shoot. Silence and calm heads. Seconds passed. No one dared to move. No orders. Whoever was playing games with them, whoever was trying to kill them like their first two agents, would pay. A minute of nerve-wracking silence followed and the agents, though more prepared than their predecessors, were growing irritated. Nothing happened at all.  
Out of nothing, the shattering noise returned. But no wind hit the skin of the agents. Confused glances were exchanged. One of them slowly walked into the direction of the sound, gun aimed. He inspected a wall and when he returned, holding up a small device that was programmed to relay the sound of bursting glass every minute, everyone straightened and let out a sigh of relief.  
The leader of the team nodded to himself. He would make sure this attacker would pay tenfold for making them look like fools, for playing with his trained agents. This psychological attack would leave scars, and combined with the given high-stress levels of their jobs, some in his team would need even more counseling, which meant a new rotation, new team members, and more work.  
One of the agents called for the team and pointed at the corpse-littered ground. Everyone started the investigation immediately, A drop of blood with a long, thick hair in it. A good hint, more than just a blood sample. Perfect.  
The leader smiled. They’d catch this psycho quickly. There were enough traces to follow around.

 


	3. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Soothsayer by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _  
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

**_Paris_ **

 

Natasha pulled herself up a balcony, her leg wound scraping against metal and then stone, the burst of pain making her suck in a harsh breath. She almost let out a moan but no, she needed to concentrate and mainly, to remain unnoticed. The reason was simple: right now, a number of men crossed the street underneath her, all clad in the same uniforms, carrying  sharp guns and expecting another surprise attack by the scarlet spy.  
_Not today,_ she decided with a look at her leg, _but I’ll sure come back for more._ _  
_ The balcony wasn’t big, only offering enough space for her, a lonely greenish cactus, and a chair. A glass door led into the house, or more precisely, the apartment, one of thousands in the densely populated urban France. The handle didn’t budge under her hand and curtains prevented the redhead from peeking in.  
The light of the streetlamp a few meters away turned the glass into a mirror and she frowned at her appearance. Several cuts parted her black uniform, traces of an explosion hung in her hair, and some kind of mesh had created a net pattern on her tired face.  
Well. She wished that was all her little surprise visit had actually left.  
Natasha sighed. This mission was stupid. Had been from the beginning. Maybe she should’ve stayed in the dark a few days longer. Maybe she could’ve figured with a really good way in and an even better way out plus a brilliant strategy for the part in between to infiltrate HYDRA’s premises without a scratch. No one had given her the mission, it had been her own choice, born out of emotions she had assumed buried since decades. Curiosity had pushed her into this. It was a great catalyst for risky actions and she had gotten almost all she wanted, except, unfortunately, she hadn’t managed to take it outside.  
It was only a few pieces of paper she’d come for, assemblies of letters any child could’ve written out for her. But the knowledge of those exact letters put her life at stake now for having been read. It made a difference. Written by a man in a high government position, now filed in her head as HYDRA, these words could translate to her death. But she was running from police units since a month already, most definitely alarmed by the CIA, who despised her way of coming up with her own missions, so adding HYDRA to the list of pursuers didn’t change much. Natasha had expected them to drop the chase, however, as soon as she had left the building. HYDRA had not recovered to full force after DC yet.  
A cat snuck up on her, but instead of swatting it away like she usually did with cats, the spy let it sit right next to her while she intently watched thin gray smoke rising beyond the houses.  
She could almost hear Steve’s disapproval. He liked to always have everything planned out so neatly, so organized that felt like on a field trip into the past, to her own training, back under the wings of a burly mentor teaching her how to survive. But then Steve sacrificed himself for his team on a regular basis and she couldn’t say she’d every seen something like that in either her training or the rest of her life, which was either really good or really bad.  
No, she couldn’t live so selflessly, not when Steve wasn’t around.  
And now he wasn’t, definitely not, he was in Wakanda, her network of spies claimed and she guessed King T’Challa intended on keeping it that way - secret. The public wasn’t supposed to know, they didn’t, according to newspaper headlines and internet conspiracy blogs.   
The king was intelligent. He would keep them, Steve and the others, in that isolated little country of his, until the roaring waves of politics smoothed down around the Sokovia-Accord matter, for the good of everyone involved. No need to let the world know he harbored heroes declared criminals by the law of his father, honored regent before him. Maybe they even tried to fix Bucky. A bright flame of hope flared in her, small, but steady like her heartbeat. The _Winter Soldier_ mentioned in the files she’d seen just a few minutes ago.  
Natasha knew she couldn’t keep this intel from Steve and she swore she wouldn’t. What the two men had was special. She envied their brotherly bond deeply but never openly, and she didn’t dare to keep any of the two from recovering.  
The cat caressed her bare hand with a few sweet strokes of her tail and disappeared towards the roof.  
“Adieu, mon ami petite,” Nat whispered and heard the softest reply fading into the night, mirroring the dirty pillars of smoke a few alleys further. The men had left during her musing and she was grateful for the peace.  
A man in a familiar attire stepped into her alley and she realized that the repeated shutting of that car doors a few seconds ago must’ve been her cue. Shifting her weight onto the good leg, she moved closer to the balcony’s end, peeking through the metal bars. There was no eyepatch now, no long trench coat, but she recognized his step, how his footfall sounded against the asphalt ground. A friend.  
So she bid the not-so-lonely-anymore-cactus farewell and pressed her teeth together when she swung her feet over the handrail to climb down. Just when she hung in the air, halfway down, the armed men returned to the dark street, immediately focusing on her.   
“Hurry up, Romanoff,” the familiar voice called, he was already getting back to the car. “We gotta be somewhere. Wanna pick a souvenir?” He pointed at the men running towards their car, guns ready and all that.  
“Nah,” she grinned, tired but happy to see her friend, “just go.”  
And Nick did, crushing those armed idiots standing in his way with the fury they deserved.  He had no respect for anything HYDRA.

* * *

 

_**Wakanda**  
_

It had been a long time. More precisely, thirteen big paintings, four clandestine SIW missions and a hundred and nine workout sessions ago. That day the scientists had started researching Bucky’s brain condition and still, they hadn’t presented any promising findings or solutions.  
Steve shook his head, not allowing the frustration to cloud his mind. The pull-up bar under his hands glinted with sweat. His and Sam’s.  
No, this morning Steve had interrogated the project’s leader about updates and a release date. The tube was still dark, and still icy. Holding a man still pretending to be dead, a ghost. Still trapped in a dark room resembling the greedy blackness of the night stealing the last rays of light. The thick windows absorbed much of the outside light, securing everything inside like a safe. _Or a prison,_ Steve added in his mind and scolded himself for it instantly. Every time he visited his friend, he felt the same, powerful pain gurgling in his stomach, ripping apart all hope everyone maintained with extraordinary care. Since countless nights, nights of unrest and torment. The 95-year old sighed. With a scientific progress of only 23 percent after so much time, patience was more scarce than snow in the tropic Wakanda.  
“You’re doing it again, Speedy Gonzales! Show some mercy,” Sam yowled from far behind and the supersoldier pulled out of his trance, only now realizing he’d taken off sprinting at an ungodly pace. He let Sam catch up and focused on the track.  
“How about sparring later?”, the blonde inquired and received a sharp huff and a playful glare.  
“Yeah, I’m no fan of dentists. I actually learn from my past, that’s for sure.”  
“Oh, that’s what you do now?”  
“You should try it too.”  
Steve snorted and with a smirk, took off again, leaving a panting Sam behind. But he didn’t run far, because once Sam fell back and out of his peripheral sight, Steve’s mind wandered off again, uncontrollably like a wave with its own tumbling dynamics, back to planning what he prepared for Bucky, armloads of memories collected to be returned to their rightful owner.   
Steve couldn’t stop himself soon enough and crashed into Clint with the force of a speeding bull. The archer had zero chance to get off the running track. Now he was buried underneath America’s greatest steroid experiment of all history (aka _America’s greatest hope_ ).  
“Jeez Steve,” Clint snorted, wiping blood off his scabbed elbows, “You’re not a dog. Even Lucky doesn’t jump at me like that.”  
A thousand apologies flew at him, but he just shook his head, grumbling something along the lines of _“I’m not getting paid enough for this shit”_.  
Sam checked for more injuries on Clint’s neck while Steve looked around the room, spotting Wanda, who stood completely apart from them. There was something unusual about her, the way she stared onto the ground. More alarming, however, were the levitating dumbbells from the racks around her.   
Worry rushed through Steve’s veins instantly. He remembered that one, scary night a booming crack had shaken him out of bed, the one night he’d almost slept through. Like the others, he’d run towards Wanda’s room with a gun ready, checking for intruders. All they found were a wardrobe split in two and a sweaty, panting, and sobbing Wanda. Loss of control over her abilities only ever occurred when nightmares quenched her heart, when she was under heavy duress.  
So Steve approached her, with soft steps and his most soothing tone, calling her name until her watery eyes met his. It didn’t surprise him that the girl fell into his arms for a few seconds. Moments like these made him feel like a father, comforting his strong and brave daughter whose heart cared so deeply about things that it made his ache just the same.  
He felt her shift and while she pushed him back a little, away from the radius of the gym’s security cameras, he watched her face turn back to very serious. _Natasha probably taught her that,_ he thought, _to push emotions away_. _To concentrate even if your heart feels like it’s bursting from bitter pain._ _  
_ A towel floated through the air, right behind Wanda and there was a water bottle right underneath the ceiling. The girl was a mess.  
“They took Scott,” she whispered. “It’s all my fault, they’ve taken him and they’ll keep us in here and…”  
“Wanda, what did Scott do? Who took him? You didn’t make another bet with him, did you?”  
She nodded timidly, not like a child afraid of scolding, but like a person deeply regretting what had happened. On the inside, Steve cursed their empty schedules. Of course everyone had been bored since a few months now and only stupid things happened out of boredom.  
“He saw something. At the office floors.”  
“And you dared him to get it.”  
“Only a copy.”  
She stepped a few steps forward to put a hand against Steve’s still sweaty forehead. They’d practiced this before and Steve knew her hands were shaking because she was terrified of what could happen to Scott, not because of what she was about to do to Steve. Her grabbed her hand with his, softly rubbing her palm, her fingers, and her wrist.  
“Take a breath. Another one. Deeper. In and out. Okay, now show me,” he ordered.  
Sam and Clint stepped into the changing room just before Steve’s vision blurred, leaving him with a single picture: the memory of a file.  
It said **James Buchanan Barnes** in fat, black letters. He gasped. This was a full medical report. One that had never been shown to Steve or the medical supervisor, Dr. N’go, who would have mentioned anything new. _Did T’Challa know about this? Why was there a stamp underneath it? Who had read these papers?_ His eyes widened when he made out a CIA-signature. _They shouldn’t even have their location. This was exactly why the four ex-Avengers had been hiding here since five months._ __  
It didn’t take much to see the doom suddenly rushing over the little group in the changing room, dark clouds looming in the sky, hiding all the light. This wasn’t gonna end well, Sam could already tell. He had this feeling again, that tingle in his left biceps. And the biceps never lied.

Steve and Sam stood in the elevator that transported them right into the office compound, straight before the doors to the SIW’s quarter in the royal palace. Both of them were unarmed — hopes remained that Scott could be liberated with diplomacy rather than guns. Also, nobody wanted to cause trouble so short before the big conference tomorrow, the one that had everyone on highest alert, even those not involved were experiencing the overall nervousness. It also explained the extra guards in front of the office hallways, checking everyone for their ID-beads and weapons. For Steve and Sam, it also meant being put into a waiting room because of restricted access.   
Just when they assumed they must’ve been forgotten, the door opened and revealed a man in a suit, his face not particularly stern nor marked with the usual tattooed colors of rank. Lt. Lomawu.   
Sam had heard rumors that the council had denied the born Wakandan the usual elevation ceremony because he’d studied abroad, in Europe, possibly sending the wrong message to the young generation who was supposed to stay inside the nation. He did, however, not lack the golden accessories that noble fashion loved these days.  
As always, he wore his shiny black shoes that Steve hadn’t seen anyone else wear here, a reminder of his past just like the style of his hair that was partly bleached. Today however, his upper arm was bandaged.  
“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Wilson, I suspect to know the reason for your uncharacteristic visit.”  
“We would like to see Scott.”  
“Mr. Rogers, I understand you value Mr. Lang…”  
“He’s family.”  
“I’m afraid we cannot grant any access at the moment,” Lomawu scanned the faces in the room, “however, we might find a solution for an accelerated release.”  
Something vibrated in Steve’s pocket and he pulled out his phone. He raised his eyebrows. _No one has my number, this phone is secret,_ he thought when he excused himself under the interested gaze of the SIW’s leader. He answered, but waited for the caller to speak up. If this was a trap, he wouldn’t give them confirmation of his identity.  
“Hey Rogers,” a woman with a husky voice said and Steve immediately knew it was Natasha, smirking, with one hand on her hip.  
“Miss me much?”, she asked and every burden seemed to fall from his heart for a second. Of course, he’d missed her, she’d been a constant part of his life. Her eyes were the only ones that grasped the tragedies of his heart.  
“Why are you calling?”  
“You know you do. How does a road trip through France sound to you?” He looked back to the others, realizing that this wasn’t just Natasha calling, this was a spy. Whatever she wanted, she could’ve also just called an official line. What she did now had probably required the disruption of a number of firewalls and security protocols. Mr. Lomawu hadn’t stopped listening to the call although he seemed to converse quietly with Sam.  
“What are we gonna see?”  
“How about, everything you missed in World War II? Found a special exhibition you and Barnes would like. We still need a way in, but I know a guy.”   
“Course you do.” Steve hung up and turned back to the others.  
“What happened to your arm?”, Sam asked the Wakandan, his arms crossed, like always.  
“Just a cat that needed to be reminded of its place in the food chain.”  
“Must’ve been a big one. Did you kill it?” Sam had heard of the Wakandan hunts but hadn’t been aware they hunted big cats as well, especially when they considered the panther as a sacred animal. Weren’t cats all related anyway? Maybe cousins were excluded from the rule. Families were always messed up, at least to a certain degree. Maybe the panther was the crazy uncle.  
“It still lives. Sometimes, Mr. Wilson, things serve a greater purpose, but are just not ready yet, don’t you agree?”  
Someone opened the door, stepping in half-way. A man in the honorable position of secretary and second to the SIW’s leader. Mr. Djenge, a representative of the military with a fine sense of character and behavior analysis.   
“Sir, your associate is on the line.”  
“I’ll be there, thank you.”   
Mr. Djenge nodded and moved his tall body out of the room.  
“Change of plans,” Steve announced to get their attention and Sam’s face looked like a giant question mark.  
“We’re still asking that Scott be released. I also that favor you owe me.” Mr. Lomawu hesitated but finally nodded. He probably hadn’t expected this so soon, only a month after Steve had finished giving a special training session to an assortment of guards in an emergency situation. That was the reason the leader of the SIW owed him, even if he didn’t like to admit that.  
“Sam and I need a way out of Wakanda - by tonight.” There was a long pause after that.  
“Even if I owe you a favor, I’m tasked with your safety _on royal order_ , I can’t allow your leave.” Lomawu sent a look towards the door, stepping a little closer to Steve. His voice had changed into a whisper. “But if you happen to steal a certain Quinjet, locked away like a gold treasure in Hangar 14, at 1830, when the guards gather to receive new instructions for the conference security protocols, I guess there would be no unit prepared to stand in your way for at least… ten minutes.”  
“We’ll hurry.”  
“There is one condition. Keep me updated via this secure communication bead. If need for extraction appears, we shall aid you.”  
“Fair enough,” Sam agreed, Steve nodded and all three of them shook hands. A strange feeling spread in Sam’s body, a warm fuzzy feeling mixed with strong excitement. _Finally. If this is what freedom feels like, I don’t ever want to feel anything else anymore,_ he thought. A look at his side showed him a smile on Steve’s face. The door opened again.  
“Mr. Whittaker requires your attention now, Sir.” Djenge tapped one of the beads on his bracelet, the silver shimmering against his dark skin, and as the two men disappeared in the hallway, a live hologram information of the caller appeared, showing a man’s face. At that Steve and Sam left, not intent on keeping the SIW from their work.  
Evening took a long time to finally come, but it came. The two soldiers had prepared and Steve spoke to the others who would stay back in Birnin Zana, Wakanda’s greatest pride, every single one of them a little disappointed. Understandable.  
“Wanda,” Steve began, choosing his words carefully, “Bucky is in your hands now. Make sure he’s safe. It’ll only be a few days.”  
She nodded and hugged him, accepting the new responsibility that had never slipped out of Steve’s hand before, not by his choice. But finally, there was his opportunity to end Bucky’s suffering and he wouldn’t let that fire die. Clint promised to look after Wanda and to take care of the whole situation with Scott. No one noticed how he slipped an envelope into Steve’s pocket and made him promise to throw it into the mail for him. On it, in black ink, the name of his wife.  
  
Steve and Sam departed after that, sneaking out into the dark of Wakanda, checking their surroundings more frequently than usual on these compounds, considering their guest status, while finding the ways around the majestic palace that led towards the hangars. Lomawu was right, the number of guards on shift had been cut down to a still considerable minimum, so that the two soldiers almost made it to Hangar 14 undetected.  
They were clad in the standard uniform of Wakandan guards and maybe that contributed to how far they came as well, but suddenly, just when they passed a strip of dry grass and waist-high bushes, already in eyesight of their hangar, guards appeared. Sam remembered how he’d seen special kinds of ground sensors in a tech exhibition. They must have them everywhere. You couldn’t just get in, you couldn’t simply walk out of the palace.   
_Great. This is either run or fight_ , Steve thought with a look behind. He signaled Sam to go ahead, to get the Quinjet and prepare for departure while he took care of the handful of unlucky guards. Steve dropped right there, seeking concealment behind some bushes not big enough to really hide his physique. As they came closer, he took all of them out. The first one he got down with one well-placed blow, the other four needed more persuading to lay down their consciousness. Steve rammed the one left of him into the prickly bushes. His size gave him a clear advantage. That gave him enough time to bring the next down with a kick to the back of his knees. For the first time in long, he actually wished he had his shield back.  
From the ground, the guard attempted to activate his alarm-bead to call for backup. Just in time, Steve ripped the bracelet off his wrist. The third guard landed a few punches on him. The blonde’s elbow hit hard into that guy’s ribs and he sank down with a crack. Both left guards, the one from the bushes and the other, attacked at the same time. Instead of pushing into them, Steve pulled the one’s fist towards him, putting off that guard’s balance. He crashed right into his companion, proving to be no obstacle either. On the ground was more movement. One of them came back up. He looked at the bracelet still dangling from Steve’s fingers.  
“Sorry, buddy,” Steve said and dodged a kick. He took him into a chokehold until the guard passed out. He hated doing this, but it was still better than killing them for just standing in his way. The Quinjet rolled onto a landing strip some 300 meters away, so Steve started running. The cargo ramp opened and with a final sprint, the supersoldier made it before the jet took off. He got his ride, closed the ramp. Sat down next to Sam. Caught his breath.  
“Man, you actually did sweat a little today, didn’t you?”, Sam grinned. “Seems like you finally got a real workout.”  
No call came in from the tower, the Golden City’s aircraft-base probably hadn’t managed to get a hold of this situation yet. No one was following them, just like Lomawu had implied. Even if they still tried to send in jets to follow theirs, the two soldiers didn’t notice anyone in the airspace around them. What Steve and Sam also didn’t notice were two guards standing in the hangar, giving each other a handshake upon seeing two ex-Avengers, and actually, the right ones, depart. Then, pulling out their communicative system, one of their special beads the Wakandan population used for so many things, to report to their commander.

_“Confirmation of Rogers’ and Wilson’s departure. Further instructions?”_ _  
_ _— “Return to posts. Do not engage. Prepare for tomorrow.”_


	4. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Sorrow by Sleeping At Last; Run Boy Run by Woodkid

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _   
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

 

When everything had stayed calm around them and the second hour of the flight had passed, Sam nudged Steve’ side.  
“You really are as reckless as Bucky said. Man.” Steve shot him a confused glance from the side. He actually looked a little tired right now, although he shouldn’t be.  
“Y’know, training for hours and not even taking water along. Gotta stay hydrated, man.”  
Sam grinned a wonderful white grin and Steve knew that this guy had way too much fun right now, when a water bottle flew right at him from the back. Grateful, Steve took a few gulps.  
“Bucky didn’t say I was reckless”, he replied.  
“Yeah he did, but I won’t turn around so you can ask him.”

 _You can’t ask him._ Steve remembered the moment that became reality. When ice was poured over the man he wanted to see alive and breathing. These days Bucky just stood there, in the tube with only one arm and pretended he was dead. How many times Steve had stood in the same room, looking at Bucky, silence between two men who’d never been silent when together.  
A sigh escaped him.  
“I hope everything will go as planned.”

Sam couldn’t turn around to his friend, couldn’t look him in the eyes just then, maybe for the first time ever, because all the pain on Steve’s face was too much to take. Also, it caused him to feel like he was intruding, like this was a part of Steve too personal to be shared with anyone. Sam concentrated on the night beyond the windows of the cockpit, hands calm on the control board.  
“You saw Wanda’s face”, he started slowly, willing to encourage the man next to him, who just wasn’t supposed to be this breakable, this fragile. How could fate be so cruel? To someone who didn’t deserve it in the slightest?  
“She almost glowed when you told her to watch Bucky. She won’t let anything happen.”  
Sam didn’t know what to say when Steve stayed silent. This man inspired people by just being around, but right now, he didn’t do anything, let alone inspire Sam.  
“Sleep a little, I mean it.”  
Back came a grunt. But the blonde giant did stand up, obliging a piece of advice by a true friend very much crucial to the success of this mission. Nat would scold him for not listening to Sam, he could feel it.  
So Steve strapped himself onto one of those wide benches in the back of their stolen Quinjet, praying for peaceful rest. Sam did too, pray for him to have peace when his eyes closed. He knew he couldn’t handle nightmare-Steve if his life depended on it.

Because Sam, not just a therapist to war veterans with PTSD, but also a human being with a healthy sense of empathy and reason, had discovered what a proficient liar Steve actually was. All these evenings where they had been joking around, when Nat had proclaimed Steve the worst liar she’d ever met, they had completely forgotten - or maybe chosen to ignore - the depth of Captain Steve Roger’s sense of responsibility and selflessness.  
He’d lied to them all along, undetected and repeatedly and even soldiers and spies were blind, or longed too much for a lie that they’d decided to trust his every word.

The best liars are never those who make you believe the lie.  
The best liars are those who make you _want_ to believe the lie.  
Sam inhaled sharply when these thoughts took him captive. Never before did he accept them, as though he could be punished for this knowledge, but he realized that Steve just didn’t let anyone see him. Oh, and how he had learned to defend himself with a shield.  
Only the people closest to him ever caught a glimpse of the horrors beneath the perfect, peak-of-human-performance-façade.  
And these nights in Wakanda, Sam had met the real Steve and realized that it scared him more than anything. After a few long time, however, he noticed a distinct pattern in Steve’s nightmares.

At first, the raw screams from behind walls sounded disassembled, cracking with every new intake of breath, pained by fear. Then names followed, some loud and urgent, some a mumbled bunch of syllables. Sam had heard Peggy before, he knew Bucky, he knew his own name and he knew Natasha. It hurt to hear those names in the middle of the night, sounding so broken and panicky. Sam’s heart shuddered.  
Was it more terrifying, in the wild minutes Steve didn’t stop screaming and thrashing his room, when Sam couldn’t move, fear nagging on his soul like he was a child again and the monster was just next door? Or was it in the eerie silence that followed right after, or maybe even the mornings afterward, when he caught a glimpse of Steve’s room, the room of a disciplined military operative, with neatly folded blankets, clothes and no traces of the forces unleashed by the super soldier in his midnightly wrath?  
Or probably when Steve smiled kindly at Wanda, encouraging her before school started, when he high-fived Scott after a good joke, when his blue eyes rested on Sam so peacefully, hiding all the pain that he endured as his own burden, that no one was ever to carry other than himself.  
Maybe Bucky would carry them, Sam thought, hoping for scenarios unlikely to happen during his lifetime, given how slowly the doctors progressed on his case. No matter how frozen he was right now, he was crucial to Steve’s sanity. These boys knew each other to a degree that he’d seldom witnessed before, they trusted each other too deeply to ever forget the other, brainwashing or no.  
Sam cursed silently. They couldn’t make any mistakes. Too much depended on this mission and they hadn’t even prepared for it.  
His mind wandered back to his first mission with them, back in DC. He hadn’t been prepared back then. Steve and Natasha had needed his help and hadn’t bothered to ask for it.  
Now, that fight was over and in the past and Steve still needed help.

His phone vibrated softly in the jacket he’d thrown over before rushing through and out of Wakanda’s most expensive hallways. As Sam pulled it out, a text message glowed at him. Annoyed, he scoffed at his screen that was way too bright in the dark. The message read _Park the bird in Lyon, meet me at the Gare du Nord in Paris around noon. :)._  
Shit, he thought after a few seconds. There was no way this message would stay hidden from intelligence agencies. We are fugitives again. On the run. He prayed Natasha had thought this through.  
Steve slept without distress this time and Sam made it to Lyon in less time than he had thought realistic.

* * *

Crowded. The train station in Paris was crowded and that was the only description Sam could find for this somewhat chaotic place. Of course, he’d been to New York and San Fran before, but this was a different way of crowdedness.  
If any more people enter the platforms, he thought, anyone standing too close will fall down onto the rails like lemmings huddled too close to the edge of an iceberg.  
Sam wondered if anything special was going on in Paris right now, but the city was the center of the country and probably always terribly busy. Additionally, this was a Friday. All the commuters drove home from work right now.

The train was still moving, slow and smoothly hitting the brakes.  
Sam checked his phone quietly, pulled it out of his jacket once to see if Natasha sent him another text with instructions, because he certainly didn’t want to spend hours in this place, and pulled it out a second time to see how late it was. Almost 12:30. _Come on, Natasha. Where are we supposed to meet you? Give me something._  
Steve sat opposite from him, assessing the area with a serious expression on his face that made his jaw look hard and more square than usual.  
“Cameras everywhere. Still got the cap?”  
Sam pulled it up. Steve wore a hoodie and pulled the hood over his head, although Sam doubted that whoever was looking for them would fail to recognize the big blonde. Not after The Battle of New York, the Disaster of DC, Sokovia’s Shaking and his Berlin Bucky Jailbreak.

* * *

**_London_ **

_A dozen agents rushed into an office plastered with screens, computers and desks._  
_“Alright, ladies. This is the CIA, not the kindergarten. We got intel claiming Captain America and The Falcon to be on the way to a rendezvous with The Black Widow. Pull up camera footage from Paris, Gare du Nord. Come on, people, find me both Rogers and Wilson. Run protocols, give me phones, credit cards, travel records, anything. Last week was a disaster and I will not have it repeated.”_  
_“Instructions for the local asset?”_  
_“Give order to shoot on sight. For both. If they want revenge, this is the price they’ll pay.”_  
_Trained fingers typed in codes and directives, streams of people appeared on the office’s screens and recognition programs ran to add identities to the many moving faces in the crowd._  
_“We located the Falcon’s phone”, an agent threw in the room, “they are on a train, just entered the station.”_  
_“Tap it.”_

The TGV train came to a halt and people exited, fusioning with the masses outside the automatic doors. People pushed from behind and were so close Steve was almost uncomfortable, doubting the big hoodie to conceal his identity to a sufficient degree.  
“Don’t look up”, Steve warned, “and take care of your backpack. More thieves here than at JFK.”  
After a few seconds, a beeping sounded behind them, a female voice blared through the speakers placed high on green metal pillars and signs up above, announcing the departure of their train.  
A phone left behind on an empty seat glinted in the sporadic beams of sun breaking through clouds and the glass ceiling at Paris central station. Sam sighed. It had taken him quite some time to befriend with the plan to leave his phone behind as diversion.  
“Bye, Candy Crush Level 153”, he whispered. Just when he wanted to divert his eyes, something bright flashed on the display of the phone, just for a second. A text message. Sam’s heart skipped a beat. He prayed the text wasn’t from Nat, saying that they needed to meet somewhere else.  
Maybe it was just an app notification, he tried to reassure himself. Slowly, he turned towards the soldier a whole head taller than him, than almost everyone, who hadn’t noticed his sudden unease.

The two men hadn’t moved far from the rails yet, still awaiting Natasha’s arrival.  
Their concentration was on peak right now, their eyes whirred around to capture every nuance of their surroundings, to notice every hint of danger. The upper level was much calmer, with fewer people scurrying around than downstairs.  
Steve noticed a homeless person snatching stuff out of people’s pockets, wallets and keys and loose money, but kept his focus on the cameras and skimmed the rumbling crowds for men in tactical gear, for men in dark suits and for men with suspicious earpieces. Public places were playgrounds for intelligence agencies and he was, albeit not an easy target, way too far up on their priority lists, thanks to the Sokovia Accords.  
A criminal. And he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

Right now, the only objects surrounding them were a ticket automat, a newspaper booth with familiar faces greeting them, one even lined with a distinctive dark goatee. A line of people stood right in front of it though, all of them unaware that they shielded Steve, who had for a long time been the shield of a whole nation, and his companion, from silent observers. But it was no coincidence, either, since Steve had observed the rotating cameras on the ceilings. The hardest task today was probably going to be avoiding all of them.  
Suddenly, something vibrated in the pocket of his hoodie and he almost scolded himself for not noticing the phone in there. He had left his' in Wakanda on purpose. That meant that they, the CIA, Interpol, P.R.I.D.E., whoever, had either found them. Or someone worse. Sam shot him a somber look when he too examined the device in the blonde’s big hand.  
“Who gave you that?”, he whispered and Steve shrugged. This was a brand-new phone, prepaid. Slowly, he answered the call, but waited.

 _“Sir, subjects are exiting the station, based on their phone’s location.”_  
_“What? I don’t understand. Location provided was the station…?”, their bosses’ tone was impatient. He’d done this for over twenty years. He knew his team was losing time. Phones_ rung _in the office, agents forwarding directives._  
_“We don’t know, Sir. It may be a diversion.”_  
_A different agent with headphones perked up._  
_“Affirmed visual on two subjects standing near the ticket machines, matching descriptions.”_  
_“Follow them, Michaels. Pull it up to the big screen. I wanna see it. Johnson, activate parameters for the asset. They should enter his target area soon. And get me an audio feed. Put it on the 1.”_  
_The camera stream appeared on the main screen, right where the CIA supervisor stood, headphones held to his ear. He eyed the glowing wall with the live feed. One of the targets, Steve Rogers, pulled a phone out of his navy blue hoodie jacket._  
_“Who is calling them? Why don’t we have their conversation yet?”_  
_“It’s_ a third _phone, doesn’t belong to them.”_  
_“Where did he get another phone? Tap it!”_

Natasha’s voice greeted Steve’s ear and he almost let out a sigh of relief. This was in every way better than the CIA or anyone else who planned on chasing and detaining them. Steve could hear that she was moving too, with car noises in the background before feet hit stairs in a fast and steady rhythm, the noise merging into one composed of human mumbling.  
“Get going, boys, head towards the pastry store”, she directed.  
“You really need to stop calling like that.” Steve pulled Sam with him on her command, behind the ticket machine, then around a pillar, escaping a camera that had just moved towards them. So they do know we’re here and they’re looking.  
Before them was a big area full of passengers and tourists, that Steve knew he could cross in roughly thirty strides. That would be exactly the time frame they had - else the camera would catch them. His eyes fell on Sam. Would he make it in time?  
“Don’t look at me, I’m right behind you.”  
Natasha was still on the line.  
“3…2…1”, she counted and Steve moved, quickly but not overly rushed. Running would be suspicious. Something silver glinted in the corner of his eye but disappeared when he turned his head. A second later, it was there again, a short flash.  
“There is someone with a special camera, on the upper level to your left”, Natasha provided and her fist hit something that grunted, probably a man.  
“Where are you?”, Steve asked when Sam slipped into the spot behind him.  
“You don’t wanna know. Watch the guy in the green jacket behind the soda machine”, she added, “pretend to look at the pastries to your right. The shop’s camera is broken.”  
“What a coincidence”, Steve mumbled.

People actually didn’t seem to recognize them, which was good. On the other hand, they also didn’t notice the danger they were about to face, if the worst case scenario ensued. Suddenly, Steve spotted a few men standing together in front of the ticket machine, the exact spot they had stood in a minute ago, one of them a hand on an earpiece, speaking into it. Crap. They were here.  
“We gotta hurry, Sam”, he motioned over there and pulled him closer towards the soft and sugary pastries on display.  
“You don’t say. Check out that guy up there.”  
Steve’s eyes made out a tall man clad in a fancy black business suit, hands gripping the metal railing at the edge of the level while his lips moved to no one in particular. But he stood on the other side of the hall and from his point, he would only see Steve’s back at most. Good enough for now.  
All of the sudden, a sharp whistle made Steve’s ear sting. Fire burst inside his head when Sam pulled him down and the store employees shrieked in shock. The shot had been soundless, but imperfect. They wanted Captain America’s head.  
“We need to run, just a few meters, come on!”, a near-panicked Sam pulled him forward with wide eyes.

 _“Sir, we lost visual on targets.”_  
_The CIA task force chief cursed, ran a hand through his short hair, but forced his eyes on the screens that lit up the entire office._  
_“They can’t disappear. It’s a train station. We’re controlling the exits. Find them again. Get the team in there.”_  
_“The entire team?”_  
_“Yes.”_  
_“Sir, Mrs. Henderson suggests-”_  
_“I don’t care what Janet says, Michaels. Get it done. Now.”_

Steve and Sam had vanished by slipping past the stores to the right, taking advantage of a very narrow gap between the shop’s walls. The super soldier raised a shaky hand towards his ear and thick red blood smeared over all his fingers. Sam shuddered at the sight before him, the rugged, bloody ear now a stark contrast to the light blonde hair. Torn off flesh and blank cartilage. Gross, he thought. No way I’ll forget that view.  
“Sniper”, Steve hissed into the phone and only received a grunt.  
Quickly, Sam checked their surroundings. No one would hit them in here. The blonde pulled his hoodie up again. His heart was still beating world-record-fast. A sniper. This was more than just the CIA chasing criminals.  
Did Natasha know what was going on before getting them into this? The warm blood dripped onto his neck, some even running down his back.  
“Are you alright”, Sam wanted to know and Steve, pressed into the wall, clenched his teeth.  
He’d be, later. Now this just hurt. He wondered how much of his ear had been torn off.  
“Sure”, he growled. “Let’s get out of here.”

_“A hit, Sir.”  
“Good. Get them.”_

On the other side of the shops, a stream of people walked as if nothing had happened. Just when Sam wanted to step out and move with the masses, Steve pulled him back.  
He’d spotted three armed task force assets with the same idea.  
“Quick, Sam, get up“, he ordered and they both pulled themselves up onto the stores roofs, that didn’t meet the ceiling. They lied down on their bellies, watching how the three men entered the gap, exactly where they’d stood seconds ago. When they crouched down to examine Steve’s blood on the ground, he grabbed Sam’s backpack and flung it over the edge, hitting someone’s head. The backpack was heavy. That guy didn’t stand up again.  
Next, Steve jumped down, ignoring how everything was spinning around him.  
He grabbed one guard by the collar and hit him against the wall. The other one held his gun out, Steve disarmed him immediately. Next, he buried his foot into the agent’s stomach. The stumbling man landed a fist in Steve’s face though. But he wasn’t prepared for the following rain of punches knocking him out.  
Steve pulled himself up to the roof again, returning the backpack and motioning for the nearby platform that was the upper level.  
“Jump”, he ordered and everything spun again.  
They both jumped, ripping the skin on their fingers when holding onto the rusty iron baluster. They had just pulled themselves up when a grenade flew at them. Steve pulled a vending machine out of the wall and over the explosive. After a loud boom, M&M’s flew through the station, people screamed and Natasha asked if they were alright. Part of the level’s floor collapsed, almost pulling a bleeding Sam with it, downwards. But they rushed further out of reach from the sniper and his friends, through store’s backdoors and more streams of people. Steve was glad no one noticed the red soaking his jacket. Most people just panicked.

“Camera! Tie your shoes, right now!”, Natasha urged and this time, Steve pulled them both down, his head erupting hotly in protest, which he ignored.  
“All clear, now move to your right. Hurry up, too.”  
They moved, always following her instructions, always checking for potential danger. Steve had entered a state of golden haze, where every movement around him seemed slower than usual. He wasn’t sure if he’d just lost too much blood or if that was adrenaline. He didn’t even feel the fiery pain in his ear anymore, all that was left was nausea.  
“Maintenance door ahead”, Natasha announced and a loud bang clanged not only through the speakers but also on the metal of said door. Steve quickly joined Natasha, who kicked three men’s asses in the narrow hallway behind. Even with impaired balance, he still managed to fold these goons together like cardboard. Sam took care of guarding the door.

“Listen, we’ll get out of here really quick, I have a car parked nearby, but you can’t be seen with me.”  
“Nat, what’s going on?”, Steve inquired with limited curiosity. He didn’t want to know, he needed to know. Whoever was coming after them, this was something bigger than he had assumed.  
“We’ll talk later. Use the exit next door. Wait for me at the bus stop and check the phone.”  
With that, she left, her step a little less quick and graceful than Steve remembered. She must’ve taken out quite a couple of men, taken not just a few hits.

A few minutes later, the two men stood at the bus stop she’d pointed out, their patience fading with every second. Again, the phone rang and Steve answered.  
“What now”, Sam asked, eyeing the streets. No Natasha. “Tell her to hurry.”  
He noticed a few men pushing through the main entrance of the station, at the other side of the street, who seemed very intent on finding someone - them.  
“Move closer to the guy in the blue jacket next to you, make it look like you’re talking. Offer him some bubble gum from your pocket.”  
At this point, Steve was slowly growing tired, but he pushed it away. He repeated Nat’s instructions to Sam.  
“But they can see us”, Sam protested.  
“Perfect”, she said. “They’ll come for you when the bus stops. I’m right behind.”

She was right. The bus stop turned into chaos as soon as the bus stopped. The men from the entrance rushed over and injected the guy who’d taken the bubble gum with syringes. His legs buckled and they dragged him out of the bus violently before lifting him into a van. Steve and Sam had already disappeared in Natasha’s car and stayed down when she pulled ahead of the bus, hoping to maintain her cover.  
Nobody saw them though, so they drove off in an Audi that probably didn’t belong to her.

 _“We lost them, Sir.”_  
_“Don’t you dare get your asses out of here before you have them; I expect their exact locations by tomorrow morning!” The team was dismissed for a quick power-break, albeit not without a distinctive grumble of deep annoyance. Only one agent was held back under the strict gaze of his superior. The first quickly closed the door and turned the room’s communication systems off._  
_“Any updates on Project Limestone? Tell me you have good news, Adam.”_  
_“Yes, I do. The asset has reached the assigned destination. Plus, our associate requests a meeting, Colin.”_  
_Both men stayed quiet for a moment. Failure meant exposition. And that would be the end of them all. This had been planned for too long to fail now. Meeting here was impossible._  
_“Well, invite him to the upcoming security event in Amsterdam. It shouldn’t be too hard to pull up a cover for him. No one will suspect anything, not after Wakanda opened up with the Accords.”_  
_“On it, Sir.”_


	5. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice To Meet Me by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _  
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

**_Location: Confidential_ **

 

A man in a neat suit crossed a hallway, his busy phone right where it belonged, on his ear. He rolled his eyes before hanging up. The agents from the border were exhausting him with their usual whiny exception issues and special requests. He didn’t have time for that today, but would have to deal with their shit for just a little longer, the break of dawn already on the horizon. _This would be it,_ he thought as his assistant passed him a coffee mug that he accepted, more or less grateful; he was so done with all this damn bureaucracy, coffee or not.  
The screen of his computer glowed with a dim light, demanding his attention. After typing in his password, a direct response showed up.  
“Amsterdam,” he mumbled, eying the event’s times and dates. A good cover, but interfering with his own schedule. Too many meetings to attend. He shook his head. He’d come directly, to the CIA’s sub-quarters in London. His reply was simple and introduced a short conversation that went back and forth.  
_“Meeting in London? It’s impossible. Once the CIA notices, this could get very dicey very fast.”_ The man snorted. Colin was overly cautious, but he was right.  
“Then we stuff it under a cover. How often do you get visitors like me?”  
_“Still unsafe.”_  
“Not if your investigations require superior intelligence.”  
_“…”_  
He watched the little clock in the low right corner switch the last number. One minute, two minutes passed. He assumed Colin was debating his suggestion. Rightfully so, this wasn’t a third-grade playdate.  
_“That should work. I’ll send you the schedule.”_  
His phone notified him of an incoming message with a loud _pling_. And another. He raised his brows then noticed none of the two messages were from Colin. Both were encoded, just as this undertaking required.   
The second revealed the sender to be _Remnant_. This was more than confidential. Via one button, his windows tinted itself, providing his office with the highest level of concealment possible. He leaned back in his office chair, reading the secret texts.   
The first message, the one from his guard at the hangar, read _Phase Two of Project Limestone initiated. Project Limestone._ _Retrieve the Winter Soldier._ _  
_ The second, sender _Remnant_ , said _Request: Parameters for rendezvous._ _  
_ The man smiled. This was amazing. Everything was going as planned. He quickly typed in the directives and prepared for the plan to be set into action. Thankfully, everything else had worked out perfect so far, even the pieces he hadn’t expected to perform so smoothly. Now, confidence filled his mind, confidence for tonight’s success.  
_The Remnant never failed._  


* * *

 

**_Paris_ **

 

Natasha sighed. Steve’s ear was a complicated case, looking more shredded than any ear should. He’d almost fainted in the car and only then had they realized how much blood Steve must’ve lost on his way through the train station.  
Now, she sat on his lap to get in a good position to stitch him up. She tried to be as gentle as possible - which didn’t work that well, not while Sam was zig-zagging through the craze the Parisian traffic was. Not that they _hadn’t_ offered to bring the soldier into a hospital - he insisted he was fine and didn’t need to raise more attention than they already had, which, true, made a lot of sense, but also limited Natasha’s options.  
Sam stopped a little later, to buy some food and get a new shirt for Steve. Plus some alcohol to disinfect all their wounds. The supersoldier felt better after his nap and mustered the shirt in his hands, eyebrows raised.  
“Seriously, Nat, France? Out of all the possible places on earth you choose the one with zero clothes that would fit me?”  
“Why, do you plan on taking them off, Rogers?”   
Sam almost choked on his coffee, but managed to drive straight.  
“No,” Steve sounded a little offended, but Nat just grinned.  
“Good. Now, quit moping and eat your croissant, I need to catch you up on the mission. I hope you remember your French, we’ll need it.”  
They parked the car in an underground garage and left it there. The Russian spy got to her plan right away, spreading a map of the building on her car’s trunk.  
“We’re here for a couple of files. Files that are dripping with details on Barnes, medical details as well as mission details.“ Steve and Sam exchanged a look, but stayed quiet. _Were these the files that came from the Wakandan mole?_ Natasha continued.  
“I believe they could be an important contributor to his recovery. They’re in Russian, but you’ve got Clint and hopefully a few other smart people over in Wakanda.” Her hand played with her little arrow necklace.  
“Okay, so how do we get in? Cause that’s the place, right?”, he pointed at the map. High-rise buildings always felt like a bad omen to him. So many things could go wrong. So many more people were present, and in danger. He stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest.  
“Did you bring your wings?”  
“What kinda question is that?”, he grinned.  
Natasha explained her plan that needed little to no correction. The only thing bothering Steve was the outfit she threw at him, not because of the size but because his uniform wouldn’t fit underneath.  
“Okay, sure, leave the white shirt off. Close the blazer, though,” she said while tying the little scarf that made her look like a stewardess, but apparently was usual wear for the hotel next to HYDRA’s office building.  
Steve turned towards Sam, still struggling with his clothes. The blond passed his friend a small phone.  
“Call Lomawu. If we haven’t called him in three hours from now, he’ll know we’re in trouble. It’s a secure line.”

The building Natasha had marked as target location wasn’t far from Gare du Nord station and looked like a regular office building, with a couple of stories and hundreds of windows. It was clear they wouldn’t be able to walk in through the front door. That was the main reason she’d chosen to enter it via the roof, crossing over from the neighboring hotel, posing as staff.  
Sam had already left the underground garage to take a look at the location. That left Steve and Nat to themselves. It took a lot for Steve not to grab her arm and push her against a wall again. Instead, he opted for a less violent way. Words.  
“Really!? Are we doing this again? What are you not telling us, Tasha? Who shot at us at the station?”  
“The CIA. You don’t watch the news much in Wakanda, huh? It was all over there.”  
“What was?”  
She looked to both sides, making sure no civilians were listening.  
“Last week, someone shot CIA agents during a classified file exchange in London. That someone took the files and the money. Apparently, these idiots traced it back to me. Fingerprints, DNA samples. The funny part? I spent the whole week with Pepper, in Miami. Figured out they were looking for me when I sat in a café and someone threw a grenade into my latte.”  
“Someone framed you. And now the CIA is hot on your heels.”  
“More than usual. But we’ll be fine. We’re dealing with HYDRA now.”  
“As if a different face behind the gun makes the whole thing less complicated,” Steve huffed and mustered Natasha’s face. If she was hiding something else, he couldn’t tell. But her eyes always had held more secrets than he could think of and to be honest, he was glad she was the one keeping them. Anyone else and he could smell disaster. Although, with him, things always ended in disaster. At least that’s what Bucky said.  
Their plan went well, for about twenty minutes. Steve and Nat had slipped into the hotel through the staff entrance in the back. Nat quickly disappeared, trying to get to the roof as quickly as possible over the west-wing, which was further away from the HYDRA office building. Steve ran up staircase after staircase but stayed in the east-wing of the hotel. The difficulty of this task was not to stay undetected by the guests but by the other staff.  
Steve’s heart hammered in his chest when a hotel guest stopped him. But the shock was irrational because the lady just wanted to know about room service.  
“Oui,” he answered, with the kindest smile he could offer in such a tense situation. “I will inform the hotel maids. Your room number, madame?”  
She nodded gratefully and left, her hand gliding over the marble balustrades lining the edges of the hallways that provided an overview onto the main forum downstairs. Steve walked away calmly but started running as soon as the lady was out of his sight. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed his pants. Natasha’s hadn’t fit him, so this pair wasn’t appropriate for any concierge or hotel employee.  
_Let’s just hope no one else does,_ he thought.  
Natasha had more luck in staying unnoticed and getting up to the roof. There had been another room maid that had tried to start up a conversation with her, but she’d put her off with a few hushed excuses and a strict gaze that made the blonde incline her head in submission.   
So, without any big distractions, Natasha reached the roof first and met Sam there, already waiting for them with his wings on. Grabbing her hand, he flew her over to the HYDRA building.  
“Where’s Steve?”, he asked.  
“He should be here any moment now,” she replied, but couldn’t give him anything more than that. Goodness, she really hoped Steve didn’t stop to catch a hotel thief or help a stumbling old lady to her room or something. Her hand shot up to her ear.  
“Rogers? Where are you right now?”  
“Go in without me,” his voice replied. “I’ll be right behind.”

Steve was rushing up the hotel stairs, but someone followed him, he’d seen someone else when he’d taken a detour around that one crowded hallway on level six. And he was sure that this person on his trail had at least one gun. He still missed his shield, but he reminded himself that he probably couldn’t have taken it in here anyway.  
Suddenly, there was a second pair of footsteps he could hear behind him. One look confirmed a second persecutor already aiming their gun on his back. In his rush, Steve rammed his shoulder into the next door to his right, unhinging it and stumbling into the room. It was cold and dark in there, the windows were opened.  
Behind him, Steve heard yelling and more feet. _Snap. HYDRA placed agents in here._ He rushed forward, trying to find another way out the room. He could see HYDRA’s building from where he stood. The agents had almost reached the room. _The balcony!_ Steve would jump.   
He almost didn’t notice the old man standing on the balcony. The man with the wrinkly hands was busy taking photos of the moon. He hadn’t even realized there was a sudden intruder. Maybe his hearing wasn’t as good anymore. Along with his eyesight. He wore thick glasses. Just then, Steve stopped himself. There was no way he’d overrun two people in just two days.  
The HYDRA patrol came in. The soldier realized that they’d shoot the man too if he witnessed the death of _Captain America_. HYDRA was consequent like that.  
_I have to protect him,_ Steve decided and grabbed a chair, throwing it full force at the agents. It got stuck in the wall, trapping one of them between the chair’s legs. His gun fell and the other decided to grab it before Steve could. That was his mistake - the next thing the agent felt was Steve’s boot against his nose. Another agent stepped into the room, gun drawn and pointed at the old man. The chair shattered and the second HYDRA goon trained his gun on Steve, who needed to make sure the man was safe.  
Nobody in the room had expected the _“Oh, man. Time to disappear”_ or the following _“Excelsior!”_. The old man had seriously jumped. _From the balcony. From the third story._ _  
_ Everyone in the room rushed to the balcony, HYDRA or not. Down there was a pool. And the man splashed in the water, looking pretty satisfied with his inventive escape.  
The agents looked at each other but Steve used the opportunity, swinging himself over the stone baluster. None of the bullets sailing through the air hit him on his way down.  
When he reached the surface, however, the pool was surrounded. At least a six machine guns were pointed at him. The old man was gone. Steve noticed the faint rumbling of backpack jets. In the air was Sam, holding the enthusiastic man and flying him out of trouble, sending Steve a thumbs up.  
But nobody shot him, even though they could’ve killed him with great ease. They seemed to be waiting for something or somebody. Suddenly, their radios started to come alive.  
“Intruder in the archive section, all agen-,” suddenly, very high pitched noises followed, noises not meant for the human ear. Steve went back underwater while everyone else dropped to their knees, losing their consciousness. One of them even slipped into the pool, the blood from his ears spreading in crimson clouds. _Thanks, Nat._  
Steve didn’t pull him up. HYDRA did not deserve saving. They waited for the redhead to come out of the building, but nothing happened.  
“Location, Natasha,” Steve demanded, but there was no answer. “What the hell is she doing in there so long?”  
“Maybe they took her.”  
“We’re talking about Natasha.”  
“Gu… guys… my rad… brok…in a…minute…car ready,” her voice crackled through the comms.  
“Stay here,” Steve said and started to run towards the underground garage. “I’ll get the car, if that’s what she meant.”   
He pulled the car up. As soon as he noticed Sam pacing around a house wall wide eyed, he knew something was wrong. Natasha still wasn’t out. _Had something happened?_ _  
_ Sam casually strutted over to the car, which was completely opposite to his behavior before.  
“Sam! What’s goin-”  
“Go! Just go!”  
Steve nodded and drove off, not speeding but definitely not crawling either. At the next crossing, he knew what was going on. There were police cars all over the place.  
“Crap,” he breathed. “Natasha, status report. Where are you? Do you have the file?”  
“Yes… eed… ore… tim.. hold …n,” she replied in a crackled whisper.  
“There’s no time!”  
“I sai… hol…on!” Steve groaned. _What was the hell she doing in there?_ __  
He circled the house block at least three times before Nat finally came out of the office building, holding the file against her chest. Her hair was a sticking to her neck and she’d lost her gun. Steve was just wondering how she would sneak past the five cop cars that had pulled up right before the office building when suddenly, all the other cars parked along the street started beeping wildly. Each head turned and the spy made her way to the side ally Steve and Sam were in. Both of them were close to criticizing her for taking so long, but there was no time.  
“Just get us out of here.”

* * *

 

**_Wakanda_ **

 

The stupor the Soviet assassin raised himself from was overwhelming to all his senses, just like his mind recalled. His body felt like a mere silhouette of the human being he was and for a moment, he wasn’t even sure _who_ he was.  
His mind and body dwelled in some kind of state close to dreaming, or more precisely, waking from a dream yet being half asleep. That state where your body still doesn’t move and where the images in your mind are fragile, blurry things, far from reality.  
The closer he came to regaining consciousness, the more he felt an awareness for that man inside him, the uncontrollable one, speaking and acting outside of protocols. It imploded, falling together like a building being detonated.  
“ _Mission parameters_?“, he managed to croak, his voice failing like so many times in the past, like every time his eyes opened after a procedure.  
“Oh my God, you’re awake!“, a girl next to him proclaimed. She held one hand over her chest and the other touched his forehead. He flinched away. She hadn’t woken him and for that, he considered protecting her, but he couldn’t make any promises if she kept touching him. _Touching equals pain,_ his instincts screamed and his instincts were the only thing he could trust right now. A little surprised at his motion, she was clutching her arm tight to her body.  
“Stay here for a moment, I’ll get a doctor,“ she announced and with a few steps, she was out of the room, her brown hair swaying against her back. She’d left him with less than the mission parameters he’d requested.  
The _Winter Soldier_ needed them, had always had parameters, a mission, a target. He looked around, felt his protocols, the analyses running through his mind like a computer boot. With a grunt, he sat up.  
Maybe to the girl, a moment lasted longer than to him, but he’d waited longer than a minute now and she wasn’t back. The conversation replayed in his mind. No signs or secret hints or code words had been communicated, so he determined this situation unlikely to be a distraction-run-situation. _Stay here for a moment_ had been his only order, but the moment was clearly over, so he left.  
Doctors were responsible for his arm, for his arm, for the wiping, the uncontrollable man inside him whispered from the ashes. _He couldn’t stay._ So he left, exiting the level his room was on, to find the girl. Maybe she had mission objectives for him now.

He did find her, an hour later, after taking out a few pairs of guards who’d dared to cram their dark guns in his face. When people had started rushing through the hallways, he’d found a better way to remain invisible - he clambered up a wall from where his one arm could pull him onto the beams far above the rooms. It was a real effort with his silver arm missing, but he made it.  
She sat on a couch, in a room that was too big and too open to provide cover for the _Soldier_. Next to her sat a man he recognized vaguely, comforting her with tender touches and soft strokes on her back and with whispers that should probably make the crying girl feel better. The _Soldier_ noticed a slash on her arm that was now wrapped with gauze, but already showed blood seeping through. _She must’ve been involved in a fight._ The shreds on the backside of her shirt supported the theory.  
The _Soldier_ decided to stay in his high lookout seat, only listening instead of interrupting for required mission intel from his new handlers.  
“No. He’s not Bucky. I can’t tell Steve that.” Bitter tears rolled over her cheeks. _What kind of handler was she?_ She wasn’t even armed and wore clothes that wouldn’t provide any advantages in combat. She was definitely not military.  
The blond man wiped her tears away.  
“Steve will understand, kid. You couldn’t know he’d turn to killer mode again, it’s not even your fault it happened. We just need to find Cap first.”  
_Find Cap_. Some alarm in his head went off. _Steve Rogers. Captain America. S.H.I.E.L.D. operative._ He’d been a target before. The _Asset_ knew what to do. That was a mission objective he could work with. _Good._   
With that being determined, he left the level to retrieve his belongings, his gear that he would need for this mission. The voices of the girl and the man faded into the background.  
“I couldn’t even get into that intruder’s head, Clint. It was like stepping into an empty room. And the few memories I could see where all scrambled up.”  
“Shit. Did Sam answer his phone?”

When all of the SIW agents rushed out of their offices like they got stung by a horde of bees, Scott’s curiosity had turned from ashes to red-hot flames. Nothing really interesting had happened in the last few days in this more or less comfortable cell, every day was just the same routine boredom. But not today.  
Clint rushed in. Before Scott could ask anything, a red suit was stuffed into his face.  
“Come on, man! We don’t have time!“  
Apparently, someone had freed Barnes, turned him into a Terminator again and now they needed help finding him. _Great for a change_ , Scott thought when running along the desks of the empty SIW office, huge screens glowing and blinking around him, showing live footage from the conference. T’Challa was speaking before long tables of fancy politicians from all over the world.  
Scott ran through the halls, he’d received orders to check on the radio silent 4th squad which had been sent to the labs to secure traces and hints as to where the _Winter Soldier_ could be headed. He entered the big lab he’d need to cross to get to Barnes’ chamber where he suspected the 4th to be. Everything was quiet here.  
Instead of the team, he was greeted by five corpses not even half the way to the separate cryofreeze tube, blood puddles all around them. On the opposite wall, behind lab tables, stood the _Winter Soldier_ , holding a doctor up by the throat.  
“Where is my arm!?,” he demanded harshly. Scott gulped, this man was not the same as the one he’d fought for at the German airport. This one, in his dark uniform, with all his weapons in his belt and ready to kill, scared him.  
But Scott noticed that the Russian soldier had trouble with keeping his balance. Apparently, a metal arm makes quite a difference in weight distribution.  
So Scott ran, jumping over the corpses. Gaining more speed, he jumped and just when the _Soldier_ pulled out his handgun, Scott shrunk. He hit the his opponent on the cheek, giving him quite the lash. He landed a few more punches and it all went well until the _Winter Soldier_ swatted him away and he flew right into the doctor’s lab coat, into the unexpectedly huge pocket on his chest. It was a mess in there and he was stuck in between a phone and several pens. _Gee, thanks Doc. Hope your life isn’t as messy as your pockets._ _  
_ The _Soldier_ growled. “Do you have the arm or not?” His demands continued to increase in both volume and tone and the doctor understood the _Asset’s_ ferocity was not linked to the metal appendage. With his free hand, the assassin turned the doctor’s face towards the fallen 4th squad. At the sight of Wakanda’s fallen, all resistance crumbled; he nodded weakly.  
“F-Follow me please,” he whispered and guided the _Soldier_ through a labyrinth of rooms and hallways.   
The arm had been kept in a room that looked more like a scientist’s storeroom. But the important thing was that they had repaired the arm, and put it into a suitcase. That was all that mattered. It was fully functional, just like the scientist promised. Apparently, reattachment into the shoulder socket had been simplified and came down to a simple click that could be activated on the back.  
Scott finally managed to get out of his little cage when the doctor leaned over and went back to his normal size in hopes of talking this man out of leaving or, if not, fighting him. But this was Steve’s best friend, probably just as stubborn as the walking American flag himself. And at the same time, he was the _Winter Soldier_ , trained to crush everything in the way to his next victim.  
The doctor fumbled around with the arm, but Barnes detected Scott right away. Grabbing the empty suitcase, he tossed it at the intruder who ducked. Glass followed and when that didn’t do anything, The _Winter Soldier_ took a cable from one of the desks and attacked. He almost had Scott strangled when the latter disappeared again and something heavy hit the _Soldier’s_ boots. Down there, a spanner had crushed his toes. More tools were thrown from the hooks on the walls and the _Asset_ jumped out of the way.  
The foolish doctor had left the room, with the arm of course, and was running towards the elevators. The _Winter Soldier_ sprinted after him and reached the elevator just when the doors closed. He needed the arm. He needed it _now._   
So he jumped through the glass, landing on the ceiling of the falling cabin. It didn’t stop until the third level, the level of the harbored _Avengers_ , where even more SIW agents ran through the hallways and secured the elevators. The _Soldier_ didn’t care. He needed the arm and he was going to take it back.  
Another window shattered right above the elevator and a grenade flew into SIW’s defense lines. The _Asset_ tackled the doctor clutching the arm from above and shot him in the head. He’d earned that for trying to keep someone else’s property.  
  
The _Soldier_ disappeared through the hallway to his right, pushing everyone else aside. Behind him, the explosion went off. People screamed, but he just ran to the next elevator, getting to the underground level where emergency cars were parked.  
He clicked in his arm. It whirred in response. There was a short electrical surge and the _Soldier’s_ mouth felt raw. He spat out blood, but kept his straight face. _He was mission-ready._ Time to once more become invisible, to finish what needed to be done.  
His right hand wandered into his pockets and to his surprise, he felt a paper brushing against his fingers. The _Soldier_ pulled it out. _Was this a message from the girl?_ He’d seen her in the hallways, but she hadn’t seen him when he rushed for the exit.  
The paper read _Don’t do anything stupid ’til I get back. ;)_  He shrugged and decided to get going. Whatever “anything stupid“ meant, he couldn’t waste any more time.

* * *

 

_**London, CIA** Subquarters  
_

“Good to have you back here, Lawrence,” a man in a neat blue suit said while shaking his partner’s hand. He guided him to the expensive looking chairs in his office.  
“I’m never opposed to meeting you, Colin. Although I’d prefer to spend time together without carrying our political baggage around.”  
“Same over here. But the schedule’s killing me, it’s not 1986 anymore. How’s Wakanda to you? Espresso?”  
Lawrence laughed, his dark lips pulled into a wide smile. “Thanks. No, it’s not. 1986, those were the good times. Well, the SIW is not that different to the CIA,” he said, continuing without any sign of personal attachment. These matters had to be discussed neutrally, he couldn’t afford to give away any more information than he intended. Lawrence continues. “But this problem affects us both. Which is why we agreed to a deal. I kept my side of the bargain, it seems to be your turn again. You know exactly where they are and this time won’t be like Paris.”  
His words were laced with rigid expectancy. Colin couldn’t understand the depth of the deal they made, but Lawrence’s own future depended heavily on it and they couldn’t fail again. He needed to fall in favor with his mentor, couldn’t show up with empty hands.  
This game was one of long planning and he’d been so sure they’d prepared everything perfectly. He hated keeping secrets from Colin, they had always stayed beside each other’s side during their training at the CIA, years ago, but these things he couldn’t share. Colin pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew this business was of highest importance to his friend and he did his best to fulfill that favor.  
“Paris was a catastrophe, but my unit is hot now. These boys don’t want this to be their first failed mission. All the CIA is intent on finding _Captain America_ and the _Black Widow_ , well, especially her, but thanks to your Wakandan technology, we’ll be faster than the other units. Janet and Everett will be furious.” Colin smirked to himself, but raised a brow. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else? Granting your asset free reign and protection doesn’t seem like much to me.”  
“Colin, I stand in your debt. You outdid yourself in London already. May our alliance never wither.” Lomawu nipped on his espresso.  
“The deal is safe. So are you. Good travels, Lawrence. I hope to call you Councilman Lomawu soon.”  
They nodded and Lawrence Lomawu grabbed his business case, turning around to leave the building. He smiled. The CIA was on his side, that meant one less factor to take care of in this complicated scheme. Of course, he’d hoped to have Rogers, Wilson and the Black Widow out of the way by now, but this way, _Project Awakening_ would just move a few days in the schedule.  
But the _Remnant_ was still in the game and he knew this asset wouldn’t disappoint. Now, he had to catch a plane. His smile widened. Zola would be proud.

* * *

 

_**London, CIA Subquarters**  
_

Despite the gray carpet plastered onto the office’s floor, task force officer Henderson’s sand-colored heels hit against it with a booming rhythm on her way through the building. She subconsciously fiddled with the ring on the necklace she wore. Some of her agents’ heads turned; not needing to ask what her sharp demeanor was about. Henderson’s rivalry with Whittaker was no secret and her development of a rather determined mood not a rarity. Her team experienced her as a fair leader, however, not taking her anger out on the agents underneath her. They cleared the way immediately.  
The redhead double-knocked on a glass door lined with the tag _Ruben Kinney, CIA Sub-quarter Director_. It swung open after the clear _Yes_ and Henderson took determined strides towards the desk, not even bothering to take a seat.  
“Sir, why do I only hear now that a team was sent to Paris!? You assigned me to handle the case involving Steve Rogers and his companions. Last time, General Everett Ross flew in and snatched it right out of my hands. I dropped a curtsy then, but this time I will not tolerate being kicked off the carriage.” Her reddish hair was bound in a tight ponytail and lashed against her neck with every movement of her head.  
The man before her shifted in his office seat, not impressed by his staff’s aggressive stance. Mr. Kinney raised a grayish eyebrow, running several scenarios and possible solutions through his mind. He had enough experience and confidence to decide not to blow this mission just because his staff asked him to. It would be fatal to the sovereignty of his position.  
But if there was a good reason for Henderson to come barging in, he’d listen. He knew this woman, how she didn’t do things just because. She was young, but she had an eye for structuring missions, she knew her staff and had climbed the ladder of success rather quickly with her determined attitude and the accompanying achievements. This was really important to her, her eyes were pulled into slits.  
“You were involved in your search business with Milano when the call came in. I couldn’t pull you out and you know it.”  
“Alright. But I am off now. I demand my team take over the mission.”  
“Damn, Janet. Why would I call Whittaker’s unit off now?”  
“Because my team worked out a lead worth following.” She diligently handed over the paper in her hands.  
“Oh yeah? What’s it about, Jan? Because Whittaker isn’t stumbling through the dark. He’s got intel from Wakanda.”  
Janet froze. _Wakanda_. The CIA had been waiting for the longest time to initiate a cooperation with the scientifically and technologically most advanced state on this earth. It shouldn’t have taken an incident like this to finally have Wakanda in a position where the CIA could make use of their intelligence. It shouldn’t have been Whittaker, either, of all people, who got to work with them. Henderson balled her fists and with growing annoyance, pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.  
“Sir, I will not leave without the clearance.” Ruben was still checking page after page of the, how Janet thought, considerable amount of data she’d collected rather furiously over the last three hours. She was bold, yes, before her supervisor, but anything else and she wouldn’t be standing here in her expensive navy blazer, working for the CIA’s upper levels.  
“Alright, Jan. Merge the units. Don’t disappoint me. This is sensitive material, so I expect an additional briefing from you. And leave Whittaker in peace, for God’s sake.”  
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

 


	6. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Fade Away by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _  
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

* * *

 

**_Belgium_ **

 

The car ride after Nat’s arrival was the opposite of enjoyable. Steve drove but couldn’t concentrate because he was asking way too many questions at once. Natasha was hurt but didn’t respond to anything. A lonely tear ran down her cheek and while Sam tried to calm Steve down, she just looked out of the window with an expression they couldn’t read.  
“Drive to Brussels,” she whispered.  
“Are you sure?,” Steve fumbled around with the navigation system until Sam swatted the blond’s hands away.  
“ _You_ keep your eyes on the street,” he warned, “I still remember last time we were doing this. Don’t wanna end up in a hospital again.”  
“Brussels is like, 320 km away. What are we doing in Belgium? We should be flying back to Wakanda.”  
“Finding answers.”  
With that said, they drove another twenty minutes in silence, in an aggressive silence, because Steve looked like he was fuming. Sam was just a little pissed off, while Nat and him patched up her arm.  
“Make a stop at the next highway station. We need to switch cars. We have to avoid all cameras. Also, get some sleep. We’re not gonna stop at a motel or anything.”  
Steve stopped and made sure Sam took over so he could nap later. He also went to the bathroom. It was dark by now.  
When he came back, Natasha waited for him, holding out her phone to him. Sam slid into the driver’s seat, starting the new car they had chosen. It had a German number plate and looked nice.  
Steve and Nat shared the back row, she looked straight into his blue eyes, explaining her own devastation with just one look. He felt sorry for bombarding her with questions earlier and put an arm around her. _We’re gonna get through it together._ Still, she needed to tell him why they couldn’t go back to Wakanda yet.  
The spy pulled up a file out of her bag, but for a split second, Steve thought he’d seen a brown piece of paper in there. When she coughed, all his attention was on her. Natasha lay the brown file on her lap, which clearly spelled Bucky’s full name. There was a little smile the two shared, but she quickly looked down again.   
“You don’t want to see this, but you should.” Her petite finger pressed the play button on her phone. _Was this a video?_  
“I didn’t have enough time to decrypt and transfer the files from their database, so I just recorded it.”  The screen was dark and nothing happened, no sounds or anything else appeared. On the bottom, numbers marked the recording date. It had been yesterday, in the evening. Sam eyed the two through the back mirror. He hoped Steve would be fine. Suddenly, something seemed to move, although barely anything was visible on the screen. Glass shattered, steam swirled around some container.  
“Nat, what is this?”   
Lights turned on, lights Steve had seen before. A dark silhouette stood before a tube. The cryofreeze tube containing _James Buchanan Barnes_. Steve couldn’t make out who the silhouette was.  
Natasha’s fingers appeared on the screen, she knew what was gonna happen. The recorded version of her forwarded the next half an hour since the few things that happened took time. The stranger took the unconscious man out of his restraints. Barnes only had one arm, he was helpless. In his frozen state, he wouldn’t be able to harm anyone.  
Steve couldn’t watch or listen to the ten words spelled out in clean Russian. He couldn’t stand the angry grunts from his friend or the panting of the _Winter Soldier_ , who couldn’t fight. This was a hopeless situation. They could hear Natasha repeating words in Russian while shakily recording.  
His eyes brimmed with tears. _Not again._ He prayed it wasn’t real, that maybe all of this was another nightmare, but he wasn’t waking up. This was real. This was the cruel truth.  
The _Winter Soldier_ still struggled with getting up but nodded at the directive he’d received.  
“Get out of here,” Natasha translated.  
  
Just then, the main lights turned on, revealing an angry Wanda. Clint came rushing in too, with a nocked arrow. Red streaks of energy surged through the air. Wanda did well, wrapping them around the intruder, entering his mind. The latter stood still when she had him in her grip, but suddenly, her expression turned from triumphant to worried.  
The intruder just shook it all off, moving away from Bucky, and attacked. He was fast and strong, the way he gripped her by the arm and threw her into Clint proved his strength. Every single movement was bestowed with purpose and in a way, full of grace, deadly grace. His hands pulled out knives, whirling them around, slashing into Wanda’s arm, making her sink to the ground. Clint attacked, firing arrows, but turned to blocking strike after strike in close combat. The attacker clearly knew what he was doing. He did quick turns and delivered strong kicks, keeping Wanda down and Clint out of reach.  
Bucky groaned in the background, still thawing. They got him out too fast, they had ignored the instructions in the little red manual for the _Winter Soldier_.  
Clint received a lash from the sharp blades as well and yowled in pain. He fell but reached for his bow. When he scanned the room for his target, nobody was there. He wanted to check on Barnes but was pressed into the ground once more. The attacker jumped onto him from above. He had pulled himself under the ceiling and attacked again.  
Only when Scott and a bunch of highly armed guards entered the room, the unknown asset returned to Bucky, whispering another word in his ear. Natasha whimpered in the background.  
“No,” Steve whispered, almost breathless. “Don’t make him-” But Bucky fell to the ground, completely knocked out. He didn’t attack and Steve wasn’t sure if losing consciousness was any better. He gasped. _What had they done to him?_ _  
_ The attacker threw a knife at the guards, hitting one of them right between the eyes. While everyone was distracted by the spazzing agent, another window shattered. Now, they shot at the intruder, but he was already gone. He’d jumped out of the window, from a height incredibly far up. Too high up for any soldier without safety ropes.   
Everyone in the video rushed to the window front, but there was nothing else but the local vegetation down there. Disappointment was plastered onto everyone’s face.   
Clint crawled to Bucky.   
“He’s breathing,” the archer choked with a hand on Barnes’ neck, the other rubbing his red throat. The video ended there.  
Steve didn’t know what to feel. He was boiling inside, a raw anger blocked any rational thought. Something cracked.  
“Steve! Stop!” He looked up, then at his hand, right around a crushed door grip. His head fell back into the headrest. _What was he supposed to do? Could it get any worse?_ He was already planning the way back to Wakanda when Natasha spoke up, her voice sounding broken and hesitant.  
“These files I extracted from HYDRA in Paris document that _Project Limestone_ , whatever that is, was a success. Seems like HYDRA is busy behind the scenes. Unfortunately, they had a mole in Wakanda. He confirmed that the _Winter Soldier_ left Wakanda. He’s gone, Steve. He left.”  
The blonde was silent. A war was raging within him, a war almost tearing him in half. He wondered what was left to be ripped apart. But the fire of guilt and sadness burned everything, the hot flames licked at his heart. _What is my hearts’ good for when the only one who had understood it since we were little is always taken from me._  


* * *

 

**_London_ **

 

Twenty-five pairs of eyes were directed at Janet Henderson, who stood in the middle of a mission control room. Twenty-six if you counted in the two hateful eyes of Colin Whittaker, who glared at her and wasn’t discreet about it either, getting into her space on purpose.  
“This is a pathetic joke, at best,” Whittaker turned around, using the voice-activation system. “Check access for Henderson, Janet Annie.”  
She frowned at that, at the way he used her middle name to taunt her, but she kept her conflict internal, he could spit and hate all he wanted, but she’d sworn not to give him any satisfaction.  
“Access confirmed for Henderson, Janet Annie,” the computer answered.  
“You’re such a conceited little brat,” Colin spat.  
“Oh yeah? Tell me something that’s not printed on my name tag, Colin. Task force leader. I’m just doing my job here. You’re the only one who’s unprofessional about it.”  
“You should’ve stayed out of this. Crawl back into Kinney’s lap.”  
She sent him a harsh glare, walking right past him and his furious ego, to examine all the data collected on the big screen.   
Since neither of them was keen on talking to each other, she organized herself a briefing with Whittaker’s assistant. Just when she’d reached the supervisor’s monitor, Colin pulled his assistant, Adam, back by the arm. They conversed in whispers and finally, Adam nodded, returning to her. He didn’t mention what Whittaker had decided to share with him and she just rolled her eyes at Colin’s childishness.  
The situation was simple. Rogers and Wilson had appeared out of their little hiding hole, wherever that had been, only to go to Paris, just like whatever anonymous informant Colin had dug up had predicted. The unit stationed at Gare du Nord hadn’t returned completely. The CIA had buried at least four valuable men, which led everyone to believe that they weren’t only dealing with Rogers and Wilson, but also someone else who seemed to contact the two superheroes, if you could even call them that. Probably not. _Criminals_ worked fine.  
After the train station disaster, where the CIA had lost all three targets, there had been another incident in the metropolis’s outer business district, nearby a hotel, but the agency, still tending its wounds from earlier, couldn’t arrive fast enough and the two criminals, Rogers and Wilson, slipped through their fingers once again. The unknown third target, well, _unknown status._  
“Do we know of any injuries, any disadvantages that might slow them down?”  
“No, Ma’am. Nothing.”  
Henderson huffed. Adam had hesitated a good second too long, but she ignored it. Of course, he’d be teaming up with Whittaker and wasn’t keen on sharing their intel. Janet didn’t like this, but this was just one of the things you had to endure in this job. Her fingers slid over the photos of Gare du Nord.  
“What is this?,” she pointed at a crater in the upper level’s floor.  
“They used a grenade to shake us off,” Adam stated, turning around to gather some report. “Obviously, they realized we were after them and panicked. Turns out _Captain America_ doesn’t like to be chased.”  
“Well, what did he expect?”  
An agent used a clicker signal to call the supervisors to his monitor. “We found the license plate of a suspicious car close to the hotel in Paris. It seems to be the car Steven Rogers used to escape from the city.”  
Janet focused on the screens, following the car in the video footage, watching the agent clear up the car’s license plate.  
“Good,” she said. “Find the car, send a search warrant to Interpol, this is gonna go much faster with them in the boat. Check-” Whittaker stepped in right then, cutting her off mercilessly. He closed the email program the agent had opened.  
“Read the mission parameters, Henderson. No Interpol. This stays just between our two units.”   
She nodded, hesitantly, not failing to notice how tense Colin was - _was that just his hateful attitude towards her or stress?_ To read him had never come hard to her, despite her co-workers stating how this man was just a riddle never to be solved. But they didn’t know him. Didn’t know what made him boil. But now, he wasn’t boiling, Janet certainly did not feel a storm brewing with him anymore.  
From a distance, she promised herself to keep an eye on Colin Whittaker, because she’d already witnessed him pulling Adam to the side twice now and with every look at his mobile phone, he twirled the reading glasses in his hands faster. Sure, she remembered Colin as a person who occasionally got stressed by the intense parts of his job, but she’d never guessed he showed that disposition at work.  Janet smiled. She might have an upper hand and yes, she would most definitely use Colin’s weaknesses against him. Especially if he actually intended to run this operation without her.  
_Merge the units._ Janet snorted. That sounded so much easier when all she looked at was Ruben and not Colin.  
“What is Rogers doing? Do we even know why he suddenly decided to reappear?,” she asked.  
“Well, if we knew that, we wouldn’t be standing here anymore, Jan.”  
“I’ll get to it, then.”  Turning more annoyed by the second, Janet stepped over to her own assistant, Neesa, who’d been with her almost since the beginning, a kind woman with a sharp mind. “Could you get me everything we know about Rogers and his assembly of hero friends starting at the JCT Center in Berlin?”  
“All of them?”  
“Yes.”  
Again, Whittaker interrupted and Janet cursed on the inside. She wasn’t going to break her promise, wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable again, but damn, he did make sure to be an extraordinary pain in the ass.  
“What are you doing, Jan!?”  
“My job. I’m analyzing our targets. Old-school, you should know how that works, Colin.”  
“We’re past that. Pay attention if you really need to come barging in while I’m in the middle of a damn operation.”  
“Well, obviously you didn’t do it good enough. Or we wouldn’t be standing here anymore.” She smirked at his face. That was a storm. Now, she got him seething. And she hadn’t even needed to bring up the bad stuff. He clenched his jaw and put one hand to his hip, like he always did when he was angry. His nostrils flared.  
“Why do you always feel the need to undermine my authority, Janet, huh? Why do you always need to trump all I do? Can you just - for once - leave me and my work alone?” A small shove reached her, but Janet wasn’t afraid. He wouldn’t hurt her, not physically. Not his style. He was way too intellectual for that. But she wouldn’t let him.  
“You’re never gonna get rid of me, Colin, you should really now that by now.” And with that, she left him in the middle of the operational center, with all agents secretly staring from behind their monitors.  
“Get back to it!,” he bellowed and sent a furious look through the room that was clearly meant for her. The redhead smiled. She definitely had the upper hand here. This was her mission and Colin shouldn’t have taken what was hers. This time, she wouldn’t allow it.  
“Collect the data,” she told Neesa, who had waited patiently, “tell me when you have everything. We’ll figure this out together. Don’t tell anyone, but here’s the key for the good coffee machine in Room H-8.”  
Neesa grinned and left with a wink. The coffee in the main center truly sucked.  Colin was back on his phone, giving it a furious glare.   
Suddenly, his head shot up. “Something is happening in Brussels, people. Stop whatever you’re doing and check the incoming data, and get me surveillance for Hotel Beukenhout, right now!”

* * *

 

**_Brussels_ **

 

Brussels was way quieter than Paris, but a busy city nonetheless. Unfortunately, Steve missed most of the breathtaking architecture. He did stare out of the window quite a bit, but all the colors washed together into a rainy gray haze, as if a painter had smudged life itself with a single brush stroke. Nat and Sam had conversed silently during the drive, but his ears had been numb to the words captured within the gentle rumbling of the car.  
Suddenly, a familiar, soothing scent hit his nose and when a body leaned against his side, a sigh escaped him. He looked up, meeting Natasha’s eyes. She looked fragile now, with her face turning soft by the way her eyebrows and eyes moved, always following his. They had been close in the past, close enough to hug and comfort each other, which was why Steve appreciated the young woman crawling into his lap. Relief washed over him when his arms wound around her back, when her cheek touched his chest, where the sadness had stung his heart. With him, the woman changed into a girl, a girl that knew too much of pain and death. With every single of her calm breaths, the bitterness melted away, new hope sprouted.  
“I missed you,” he whispered after a tear hit red hair.  
“Do you want to go home, Rogers?”  
“You know, you’re not just a friend. You and me, _we_ are home.”  
Natasha nodded softly, noticing the warmth spreading in her heart. Home had never been a place, after all.  
“What do you want, then?” His blue eyes met hers, green and hopeful, looking at him with a kindness that was reserved for only a few chosen people.  
“We can’t go after him. You have, before, and he’ll be just as careful now. I want to make HYDRA fall. Make sure they can’t control anyone anymore.”  
She smiled, a genuine smile. “We’re on the right way then.”

Sam had already been exchanging recent information with Lomawu, who was in Europe by now, affirming support in every way to find Barnes and covering up the recent damage in Paris. Neither of the two sides had information on the Wakandan mole though and the head of the SIW seemed disappointed, understandably, but promised to have their backs in terms of keeping their presence secret to the public.  
The rain had only temporarily stopped, judging from the dirty clouds hiding all the light from those people who prayed for sun. Puddles still littered the cobblestone pathways through the city and most cafe’s guests had moved inside. Steve and Nat were already holding hands, all according to the plan, and Sam stood before the hotel that matched the address the Russian spy had pulled up.  
“This guy living here - what exactly did he do to earn a visit?,” Sam crossed his arms, and curiously checked out the façade of the building. It looked old and had been crafted with finesse. What interested him more, however, was the number of windows in this place. If the plan didn’t work, there was no way to find out which of the many rooms that guy inhabited. No way he’d come up with, anyway.  
“The file states Dr. Aaron Vreis was involved in Barnes’ missions and handlers. You can’t seriously believe he’s out of the game just because he switched residence. Once you’re in, you never really get out.”  
Steve looked at her. “This is the first time I wish you were lying.”  
“Okay,” Sam interrupted the tragedy starting to creep through Steve’s mind once again, “when do we go in?”  
The redhead pulled on the beanie she’d brought and looked around until she spotted a businessman heading into the same hotel. Sneaking past him, her skillful hands added a piece of paper onto the back of his coat. The man didn’t even notice and she returned when he stepped into the entrance of the building.  
“What’s that for?,” Sam wondered, but grinned when he realized there had been print on the paper. “A distraction?”  
“No one will pay attention to us now, you’ll see. Remember though, there are three cameras almost right behind the door. If you move at the right time, you can avoid all of them. Let’s go.”

Steve had pulled the hood of a new-bought hoodie over his head, making his blonde hair and his neck disappear. _Maybe this could really work,_ he thought when grabbing Natasha’s hand that was much smaller than his, but just as calloused. The small gesture - Steve knew that nowadays, holding hands didn’t mean as much as it did in his time, but it stirred memories in him, memories of a strong hand with red nail polish and it was almost as if he could hear the music they played back then in his head. Even the interior design of the hotel lobby reminded him of the past.   
He sighed a little louder than intended and Natasha gave his hand a reassuring squeeze that pulled him back. He tried to smile at her, but knew she’d always figure out when he lied. It was a good thing the lobby of the hotel invited guests to sit down in the large chairs. Steve welcomed the noises of the background, it would mask some of his own distinct voice, reducing the risk of being recognized.   
They followed the man in the line up to the counter, where a young brunette was booking him a room. When the couple stepped forward, the hotel employee’s eyes were indeed focused on the paper on the businessman’s back instead of Steve and Nat. A hint of amusement crept over the woman’s lips before turning towards her new customers.  
“Hi,” Natasha smiled sweetly and Steve was still stunned by how easily she made everyone believe her lies and tricks, “I’d like to call Mr. Vreis, please.”  
The hotel staff woman nodded, but as soon as she had typed the room number into the phone, her eyes swayed back to the businessman who still hadn’t noticed anything. At this point, Sam had already done his part, because Natasha’s phone started ringing.  
“Oh, sorry,” she said, sounding genuinely surprised, “that’s him calling. Thanks.”  
The employee put the phone back, not suspecting anything. Just when the two turned around, the brunette called them back. The nervousness grew in Steve. They’d lied. _Did she notice?_ She looked him right in the eye, her forehead creased.  
“I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve seen you before.” _Shit_. _What was he supposed to say?_ Nat squeezed his hand. He swallowed hard.  
“Je travaille comme mannequin en sous- vêtements. Vous m’avez probablement vu dans les publicités.” Natasha pressed a kiss to his cheek that blushed crimson red the second he turned away from the hotel employee.  
“An underwear model, alright,” Nat giggled, “too bad I haven’t seen you in any commercials yet. Sometimes I really wanna know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”  
Steve just huffed, still a little red. “I had to come up with something.”  
“Oh yeah, that was definitely _something_.” She chuckled and Sam joined in when she told him what cover Steve had made up at gunpoint.

Their hands were still intertwined when the three of them stepped into the elevator.  
“Where are we headed, doll?”, Steve smirked at that, because this time, Nat actually blushed a tiny bit. She shoved him in the chest, all playful, before hitting the buttons for level 1.  
“He’s in room 138.”

“Room Service! Clean up,” Nat announced while knocking on the door that unmistakably said 138. It opened a few seconds later, but after the man behind it realized who was standing in front of him, he almost slammed it close, were it not for Steve’s foot in the way. They all marched in.  
Despite all the anger rushing back and forth through Steve’s veins, slashing against his blood vessels like hungry waves, he stayed calm when facing the doctor. This man had dealt Bucky like a dog. He’d sold him to the highest bidder. Steve could’ve made him pay for that on the spot. His blue eyes were steely and his jaw hard, but he kept it to himself. To be honest, he would’ve loved to give the doctor a different kind of greeting. For the mistake of having decided to go with HYDRA. Even if that was a long time ago. For having exploited humans. For the war. For mistreating Bucky. For him. He was way beyond respectful approaches by now.  
Sam had noticed his change of mood, probably because Steve’s fists were clenched and super white by the high pressure. Sam appeared behind the super-soldier, putting a hand on his shoulder, reminding him of the plan.   
When Steve released his tension and Nat was about to start the interrogation based on the files she held in her hand, the doctor spoke up himself.  
“Steven Rogers. I heard so much about you. Hero, Avenger, Criminal. Explain to me how thief fits on the list.” He seemed to get more comfortable again, with the strong soldier out of reach. _Don’t talk to him. Don’t give him what he wants._ _  
_ Natasha replied. “We’re here for the things you do know.”  
“I left HY-”  
“Yeah, not that part. Cutting all your ties isn’t your thing.”   
The doctor straightened his shirt while observing each intruder. His eyes followed Steve’s tense form while the soldier watched him like a hawk.  
“Who is giving commands now? Who is at the top of HYDRA’s hierarchy?” Steve’s voice sounded deep and menacing. Sam raised his eyebrows. The doctor shifted in his seat and Natasha spoke up.   
“We need details on the last deal concerning the _Winter Soldier_. You know they freed him.” But his face said otherwise. Maybe he was a good actor. His eyebrows stood high, almost touching the creases on his forehead. “Of course they did,” he mumbled as if that was the most obvious piece of information he’d ever received.  
“The used asset is still unidentified. Tell us who it is.”   
The silence in the room almost felt unbearable to Steve after Natasha’s clear voice echoed through his mind. There had to be an answer. His eyes flitted back and forth between the Russian and the man, who stared at each other as if challenging the other for battle.  
“It’s funny. You all came here for the same thing and now, she’s asking me a question she already knows the answer to and he’s not asking the one question he actually wants answered. So, _Mr. Wilson_ , what do _you_ want to know?”  
Sam crossed his arms. “Just answer their questions. We don’t have time for this HYDRA shit.”  
_She’s asking me a question she already knows the answer to. What did that mean?_  
Tension built up, within a second, when every eye turned towards the redhead holding the files. _Two_ files. Steve grit his teeth. _Had she… kept information to herself?_ Then, he cursed the doctor’s slyness. This piece of HYDRA was planting distractions in their heads. He was trying to save his ass.  
“Where is the _Winter Soldier_ now? Where are they taking him?” That was more of a demand than a question.  
“Where he belongs, to his creator. He needs to once again be convinced of his-”  
“I’m familiar with HYDRA’s propaganda, doctor. His creator? Zola? We destroyed his database last year.”  
“ _Captain America_. You’re running after the wrong thing, failing to understand you already lost. Captain Rogers’ death and his magical blood have been rendered worthless. Zola will be resurrected, _Captain_.”  
 That had Steve turning cold for the first time in long, shivers running over his skin everywhere. _Zola will be resurrected_. At the same time, it stirred a fire in him that roared against the black night, in spite of the darkness closing in on him. He was sitting in that burned down bar again, drinking but not getting drunk, drowning in the pain that the death of his best friend offered until the strongest woman he knew, Peggy Carter, had helped him channel the pain into a greater purpose.  _I’m not going to stop until all of HYDRA is dead or captured. Even if I have to start all over._  
With a fierce swing, he grabbed one of Sam’s handguns and pushed the doctor back and even deeper into the chair. The gun added new motivation to the interview. He saw Natasha flinch but continued.  
“Who is resurrecting Zola!?”  
Glass clanked, a bullet whizzed past Steve’s head. It dug deep into the doctor’s shoulder. He cried out once, and once again when he hit the ground. The window was still intact.  
“Get down!” Steve yelled.  
“You brought them here!,” the doctor cursed. He snatched a remote from the ground. In a furious motion, he pressed it, sending a look towards the kitchen. Steve didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t hear any new shots. Sam however, stared into the kitchen, realizing the kettle was starting to steam. Yellow steam.  
“It’s a bomb, get out,” he yelled, shielding Natasha. He got up and ran towards the door.  
“Are you insane!?” Steve yelled at the doctor, punching him in the nose, but pulled him out as well. Another shot fired at them, but it didn’t hit the soldier.  
“I thought you’d come to kill me,” the doctor argued but Steve ignored him. Now, the scent of gasoline hit his nose and he scolded himself for not picking it up earlier.  
They rushed out, slamming the door shut and sprinting through the hallways of the hotel before the explosion happened. Natasha screamed for people to get out of the area as well and they made it just in time. They found a fire escape and quickly moved out, rushing to their car. Glass and stone boomed behind them. Everything shattered and the ground shook.  
“Where do we go? Give me directions, guys!” Sam demanded when he exited the city.   
Dr. Vreis had passed out on the run to the car, the exertion had overwhelmed him. After all, he had a bullet in his shoulder. Blood was everywhere on his shirt, all messy and disgusting.  
“Germany,” Natasha directed.  
“What do we want in _Germany_?”  
“Get away - duh! We can go light speed on their highway, birdbrain. Let’s go!”   
Steve and Natasha took care of digging the bullet out of the unconscious man on the backseat whose blood was messing up the car seats too, unfortunately. Sam had to go through some narrow and bumpy streets, which complicated the whole process of stitching, but they couldn’t risk being spotted by the police.  
Germany wasn’t too far from Belgium. On the Autobahn, everything just flew by. They all relaxed. No one was going to find them today.

 


	7. Time

 

**_Time_ **

 

_{what is time  
_

_do we have it_ _  
__did we ever_  


_more like an illusion_ _  
__like the faint memory_ _  
__of a delicacy_ _  
__long eaten_ _  
__are we illusionists_  


_to pretend_ __  
_we have time_ __  
_we share precious time_ __  
_with others;_ _  
_ _or liars_

_what do we do_ __  
_what do we say_ _  
_ _should we do anything_

_running out of time_ __  
- _are we?_ __  
_still frozen_ __  
_still broken_ __  
_still hoping_ __  
- _are we?_ __  
_let’s run out of time_ __  
  
_and conquer it_ __  
_let’s make our own fate_ __  
  
_because we don’t need war_ __  
_to fight_ __  
_for what we love_ __  
_we couldn’t have chosen love_ _  
_ _more naturally}_

 

**_-steven grant rogers-_ ** ****_  
_ **_Steve’s letters  
(25.11.2016)_ **


	8. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choices: That Which You Seek (Finds You) by Zack Hemsey; Teachings of a Ronin by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _  
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

 

**_Wakanda_ **

 

Wakanda was a mess. After _“a mysterious attacker slaughtered over a dozen of palace guards, a failed attempt at assassinating the king,”_ how journalists put it, the conference was canceled, of course. No one knew specifics to what was going on, or if maybe something else would happen, if people would be safe here any longer. Some were transferred to Birnin Djata, but the majority of visitors was sent back to their home countries right away.  
The three remaining Avengers had been placed in the medical ward by royal order, all of them injured thanks to their nocturnal fight with the still unidentified intruder. Lomawu had made sure they were all safe and then, rushed off with a promise to get this situation figured out. To come back with a name belonging to the intruder. _Come back from where? Undisclosed information._ _  
_ Out of all three of them, Wanda was probably the most affected, not physically, but psychologically. Clint kept a close eye on her, guiding her through nightmares like he did with his own children, staying up with her to offer comfort. She was incredibly frustrated she hadn’t been able to protect Barnes and she blamed herself for that more than she should. But no matter how bad he thought was with words, for her, he found the right ones.   
Soon, regret and shame turned into determination. _Cap would be proud,_ Clint thought when he watched Wanda exercise in the gym.   
Then, all of the sudden, the simple silence was interrupted by doors slamming into walls and footsteps crashing against the floor. Scott barged into the room, immediately picked up by a red streak of energy and pushed into a wall.  
“Scott!,” Wanda shrieked and brought him down. “I could’ve-“  
“It’s Lomawu!,” Scott whispered. “He’s the HYDRA mole!”  
Harsh silence, contorted faces, and a dawning realization.  
“ _Shit_. They’re gonna kill Cap,” Clint cursed.  
“How would you know that, Scott?” Wanda yelped as they were running through the compound. Where they were headed - she had no idea. The man that could shrink to the size of an ant had rushed out of the gym and now, he had Wanda and Clint on his tail.  
He stopped all of the sudden and consequentially had Wanda crashing into him. Scott sent quick looks to both sides, he looked very confused, then frowned.  
“What is it, Scott?”  
“I still have no idea which hallway we’re on. _What!?_ This palace is huge and every level looks the same!”  
“Oh God,” Clint huffed, “give me patience. For starters, just tell us what you know.”  
“The ants,” Scott whispered. “We found proof he paid a lot of money to the CIA. No clue what it’s for. But he did. And you saw the Winter - Buck- Barnes’s file.”  
“Okay. Let’s go to T’Challa with that. He might be able to do something, at least get us out of here so we can help.”  
Wanda’s head turned and she sent a look through the big windows lining this hallway. She noticed the unusually busy runways of the royal airport.  
“Are you coming?” Clint asked, already standing by the other end of the hallway. She nodded, following her two friends, hoping that the king was indeed able to do something for her friends.  
They arrived at the palace’s royal quarters after thirty minutes, after having had to wait at least 20 minutes at the over-conscientious security controls the Hatut Zeraze, the royal guard was known and praised for. To their surprise, they were urged to wait. The king was busy, in a confidential political meeting right now. _Hadn’t all politicians been secured?_ _  
  
_ “My past with the CIA is not a secret, your highness. Against the council’s notion, I could arrange a collaboration and turn this situation to our favor. The CIA in London operates on a lead that points to a yet unknown asset, my king.” Lomawu eyed the king, for a reaction revealing what the Black Panther felt about the leader of the SIW and his line of action that undoubtedly sounded bold. To go behind the Council’s back had definitely not been a wise decision, but then again, this wasn’t a standard situation either. T’Challa’s face was unreadable.  
“Unknown? Elaborate. No entries in our databases?”  
“Not a single one. The only trace we discovered results from putting _his_ name behind all unsolved victims of the past… fifty, maybe sixty years?”  
“Another _Winter Soldier_?”  
Lomawu shook his head, pulling out the modified beads lining his wrist, special high-tech devices every authority in Wakanda was equipped with. Several passwords protected the highly classified content he stored on there.  
A hologram lit up, depicting a file with not just a few, but more than half the standard categories blank, a true testimonial of this asset’s nebulous identity.  
“ _If you were looking for the wind, you would not find it in this breeze._ ” An old Wakandan saying. Lomawu wasn’t surprised the Black Panther knew it. The royal education was extensive.  
“Well said, my king. I have information, however, that determines the current mission’s objective of _the Remnant_ as the murder of Steve Rogers.”  
“Is that definitive?”  
“Very. Based on the calculations we applied after the incident surrounding Mr. Barnes in his quarters, based on, well, everything we could collect, this new asset is unpredictable. There has been a direct attack on Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson in Belgium yesterday. To continue engagement in my protocols, I require permission of lethal action on sight, your highness.”  
The Black Panther still sat on his throne, unmoving, like the real beasts out in the jungle that could remain in the same position for hours. One of his hands was touching his chin and cheek, he was thinking while staring what seemed like a hole into his advisor and subordinate.  
“Do you not recommend our incarcerating facilities?”  
“May I quote one of your grandfather’s sayings, your highness? _Every fortress has a door._ I’m convinced that this asset is enhanced and that HYDRA is keeping the leash tight. Forgive me for being blunt, but how many more Wakandan lives are you willing to slaughter for the Americans?”   
The king furrowed his brows, gaze steady and his body in an elegant posture. It was a good question, one that he couldn’t afford to have overseen and trampled over.  
A guard stepped in, bowing his head respectfully.  
“Mr. Barton, Miss Maximoff, and Mr. Lang request an audience, your royal Highness.”  
“They won’t speak to me today, but my words must reach them still. They are expected to pack their gear and meet at the hangars in two hours.”  
The guard disappeared right away, honoring all the strict palace protocols.  
“You have never disappointed me or my father, Lawrence. I trust your judgment. Permission granted. Make sure to prevent any further disaster.”  
Mr. Lomawu bowed, stepping forward to display the traditional gesture of gratefulness before his king. He took the fine, ornamented spoon from the side of the throne to dip it into the small bowl of the king’s exquisite oil and sprinkled it onto his feet, Immediately, a wonderful, rich scent rose between the two men, telling tales of childhood and secret places deep within the jungle. After that, he removed himself from the mighty Black Panther’s presence, backward, like ancient rule prescribed. He had just reached the door when T’Challa raised his voice again.  
“Oh, and Lawrence? Take the Americans. They shall assist you in your _hunt_.”   
Lomawu bowed and left the room. He couldn’t say he was happy about this turn of events, but he didn’t complain. Obstacles were challenges, not stop signs. It would be easy to convince the three leftover Avengers to join the hunt for the _unknown_ attacker who had freed the _Winter Soldier_. On top, the asset had attacked them during the _Captain’s_ absence. All in all, you could call it perfect timing.   
Lawrence smiled. Zola had shown him his plan and it was a plan of victory. Pierce had failed, but the Avengers were split. Good conditions for _Project Awakening_. The loyalty these three remaining Avengers had for Steve Rogers was going to be his downfall.

* * *

 

**_Cologne_ **

 

Germany. The Autobahn was a blessing. In just two and a half hours, the silver Audi had almost covered 150 miles and flown by two major cities, each offering hundreds of places to stay. And they had stayed at a tiny little motel to just rest and nurse each other up, to eat and sleep, even despite Natasha’s determinedness to keep their course on Cologne. But now, they’d reached Germany’s Ruhr Area, which Cologne was a part of.  
When Sam asked what made Cologne so special and why they had to stay there of all places (what was up with that name, anyway?, Natasha eyed the streets warily as if she was afraid someone would jump at her any moment now.  
“The whole city’s celebrating the Carnival right now. With a tumult like this, any agent will tell you surveillance is a bitch. We’ll be safe for… well, at least a day.”  
Steve wasn’t sure if a day long enough to figure everything out, even if he pronounced it with the same optimism as Nat. _Everything_ being what HYDRA was planning to do and what would happen to Bucky. Back to the optimism, they had an important source in their car and Steve swore to himself that he would make this man talk if he denied them information.  
His mind couldn’t relax, even with the humming of the car and the jazzy music Sam had put on. The conversation from the hotel room replayed over and over again.   
_She’s asking me a question she already knows the answer to and he doesn’t ask the one question he actually wants answered. What did that mean?_  Of course, Steve hadn’t mentioned Bucky once, keeping his vulnerable spot hidden, but Natasha? _What did she ask that she already knew?  
_ Steve had supposed the doctor just asked that to create a feeling of uncertainty, that it didn’t mean anything else. _That’s how HYDRA works,_ he told himself, e _ven when they know they lost, they still create confusion and chaos any place their tentacles can reach._ _  
_ So, making sure the man who was spread out over his side of the back row was still unconscious, Steve searched for Natasha’s eyes in the rearview mirror. She was quiet. Too quiet, hadn’t even complained about Sam’s music once. _What was she thinking about?_ What if she knew much more than she pretended to - no. Steve didn’t want to believe that Natasha was pretending anything right now. She’d shared all the relevant information with them - _right?_ _  
_ Steve then recalled the one thing that had upset him that evening. He remembered how much time Nat actually spent at the HYDRA building while he’d held the car ready. The video hadn’t been _that_ long. And she still hadn’t explained why she didn’t make it out on time.  
The little bag that was placed in the foot room of the back row caught his attention. She’d kept the file about Bucky in there. He remembered how for a moment, he thought he’d seen brown paper in there. Brown like a manila file. _Was there a second file? About Bucky?_

Slowly, he bent down, grabbing the bag. Natasha didn’t notice, she kept her eyes on the street. Steve’s fingers brushed against hard paper and when he pulled it out, his eyes went wide. It was a file. It wasn’t thick, just like Bucky’s, but it wasn’t about the _Winter Soldier_. Red letters, all Cyrillic, covered the front and when he opened the file, there was no photo, just text. He knew a few Russian words Nat had taught him, enough to decipher “HYDRA property” and “assassin”. His eyes went wide. _What was this?_ _  
_ One specific entry on the bottom made him wonder what was actually going on. It was in English, and dated. _“Recent status: Instructions enforced”._  
As the car swerved, Steve had to grab the handle and the paper made a rustling sound that had Sam turn around.  
“Where did you get that?”, he raised his brows, clearly confused. He himself had deposited _Bucky’s_ _file_ in the glove compartment.  
“Maybe Natasha should answer that,” Steve replied and Sam’s eyes shot to Nat immediately. Her face pulled into a frown.  
“That’s none of your business.”  
“You bet it is. If this is what you compromised our trip to Paris for, I wanna know what I’m holding right now.” Sam wasn’t sure when he’d heard Steve so full of authority the last time, but it definitely took him back to the time when they had infiltrated the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in DC. He was glad about sitting in the front of the car right now. “I agree,” he stated. “I’m not risking my ass for just any secrets.”  
Natasha clenched her teeth. She’d wanted to keep this confidential, to not make the two men she considered friends feel like she’d used them for her own goals. Although she had, maybe. Maybe just a little.  
“Those are files about a HYDRA asset I’ve been _trying_ to locate since a few years. But nope. That one is untraceable. I believe it was this asset who stole Stark’s tech a month ago.”  
“ _I can’t believe you just_ \- wait. What happened to Tony’s tech?” Steve’s face went from mad to worried. _Why hadn’t he heard of this?_ No matter how big the break-up of the Avengers had been, this was a big deal to Tony, and Steve cared. Damn it. That idiot was way too proud to ask for help. Steve rolled his eyes.  
“Can’t believe you missed that news, too. The SIW must’ve kept you out of everything.”  
“Nat, what do you know?” Steve grew impatient. If she didn’t have a good explanation for this… well, he didn’t know what to do, but he would be deeply disappointed. Natasha hesitated, it was obvious she insisted on keeping the intel to herself, but with the pointed look Steve shot at her, she complied.  
“Okay, so Tony was working on some tech that was gonna help Rhodes walk again. You know he’s still paralyzed. The device is supposed to send electric impulses from the brain to the muscles, like a re-routing around the broken nerves. It was almost finished, then someone stole it without leaving any traces. As soon as I heard the news, I went over, looking for leads.”  
“Tony asked you for help? I can’t imagine he wasn’t still pissed at you after your stunt at Leipzig.”  
“Oh no, he didn’t even know I was there. I found a mark I remembered from Russia, from way back, when I still training in the Red Room.”  
Sam furrowed his brows while he Steve noticed how tight Nat was gripping the steering wheel. _It must be incredibly hard to start sharing parts of the before,_ he thought. _This was personal stuff, after all, that she had buried under her career at S.H.I.E.L.D.._  
Behind the windshield, the autobahn disappeared and rows of city houses came into view.  
“Check the file,” Natasha continued. “The asset is called-”  
“ _The Remnant,_ ” the doctor finished. Sam jumped; no one had noticed the doctor had regained consciousness. “And there’s not one mission the _Remnant_ failed.”  
“What’s his mission now?” Steve pressed. The grin the doctor gave him annoyed every single cell in his body, but he didn’t act on it. _Not yet._ _  
_ “Well, it’s almost concluded already. The _Winter Soldier_ is back out there and you’re not going to escape HYDRA this time. You should know, the _Remnant_ is much like the Sergeant, a little more compliant, luckily. A real animal, aggressive if kept hungry. There’s no getting away, there has never been. Once you’re a target, you can choose your tombstone.”  
“We’ll see about that,” Steve replied.  
“I liked him better when he was sleeping,” Sam mumbled.  
Natasha steered the car deeper into the city, proving she’d been right. Thousands of people were on the streets, celebrating the Carnival, all dressed up and throwing around candy. Everything was colorful and loud and suddenly, the four of them were reduced to crouching through the streets. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to come here. Sure, they wouldn’t be spotted here, but getting out of the city in under ten minutes? _Impossible_.  
Sam opened the roof’s window, shrugging when Natasha shot him a worried look. “Maybe we’ll catch some candy.”  
Steve still wasn’t satisfied with the information they’d received. He figured it was logical the mole in Wakanda had supplied HYDRA with the information of Sam and his’ departure. It was all planned, somehow. He still eyed the doctor very suspiciously. He hadn’t told them everything.  
“What else do you know? How do you know the _Remnant_?”  
“Barnes wasn’t my only responsibility, _Captain_.”  
Steve felt very uncomfortable. His eyes flitted back and forth from the windows to the doctor, wary of police presence and signs of danger. He spotted mounted police.  
“And what are they gonna do to him?” _Because whatever it is, I’m not going to let that happen._ The doctor stared at him for a long while.  
“As much as you blame yourself, you never actually had any control over life, _Captain_. You know that you can’t protect me from their assets, right? If they want me to die, I will. This shot,“ he pulled his shoulder forward for a taunting display of the nasty wound, “was a promise. I probably won’t even make the night.”  
Sam huffed.  “Do you even know who you’re sitting in a car with!? This is a veteran of World War Two. This is _Steve Rogers_.” Obviously, Sam tried to defend Steve, but the latter just wished Sam hadn’t.  
“And tell me, _Steve Rogers_ , how did protecting your family work out?”   
Steve was grim. “I don’t have a family.” There was bitterness in his eyes. “What else do you have on the _Remnant_? When is he coming for us?” They came up to a red light at an intersection.  
“Faster than you think. Actually, the _Remnant_ is not-,” something crashed through the window, right before Steve and into the doctor’s head. A bullet. Blood spilled everywhere. Headshot. He was dead right away. Sam yelped, Nat pressed on the gas.  
Steve’s head shot towards the high buildings. He didn’t see any sniper. _Where the hell…?_ Suddenly, something sunk into Sam’s arm. It was a split second, but Steve saw it. It came through the roof’s window. Sam pulled out a little dart, smearing blood over his arm. Natasha couldn’t go fast enough, too many people were in the way.   
“Get out of the car!”, she screamed. Right then, Sam passed out. _The dart._ Steve gasped. _It must’ve been poisoned._ He jumped out of the car and pulled his friend out. He needed to get to a hospital right now. _Crap, crap, crap. What were they supposed to do?_ They’d be detained before they could reach the front desk.  
Right now, they stood in the middle of the street. They couldn’t stay here, not with a sniper around. But Nat positioned herself behind the car, using it as shield while pulling her handguns out. She shooed a lot of people away, too.  
“Steve!” she shouted. “Wash the wound with water!”  
Steve looked at Sam on the ground. His eyes were closed. _Save him._ Just when he took the arm in his hands, Sam started to convulse, and, much worse, to choke. Steve wasn’t sure what kind of poison this was, but he poured a whole bottle of water over the wound. He couldn’t actually do much for Sam right now.  
Nat spotted the sniper quickly, he stood on the roof of a multi-apartment house, already packing his gear. She watched as he moved over the edge, climbing down the balconies with rapid ease. But he hadn’t reached her range yet. Suddenly, there were two mounted police riding towards the same house and Nat let out a breath of relief.  
“Looks like we’re not the only ones who spotted the sniper,“ she said, half-turning to Steve and Sam to check on them. Sam had stopped choking and Steve, _an almost- panicked Steve,_ performed CPR. A shiver ran down her back. They couldn’t lose Sam. _Oh God._   
She turned back, back to where the attack had come from. The sniper just reached the ground, jumping the last three stories down at once. The police was waiting down there, one of the officers had gotten off his horse, and walked towards the sniper. _Shit_ , this is the guy who freed Barnes. _The Remnant. He will kill them. The police won’t stand a chance against this asset._ Momentarily paralyzed by the realization of how few options she actually had, Natasha watched the scene before her eyes unfold like a nightmare. The police officers walked right up to the _Remnant_. Warm relief mixed with a bitter premonition shook her when none of the two parties started shooting. _Wait._ _Something is wrong._ They exchanged a few words. _What are they - ?_ The police officer took the asset’s long range gun and handed over his horse. With one swift motion, the _Remnant_ sat in the saddle, rifle on the back and knives in his belt. The other police officer handed him a semiautomatic, then rode off. _Shit_.  
The _Remnant_ wasn’t even a quarter mile away from her anymore and with Sam in need of CPR, they couldn’t run.  
A police car appeared in the street. _Backup._ Suddenly, shots turned the street into a grave. Horrified, Natasha realized that the _Remnant_ had killed every police officer in the car. _The good guys._ _  
_ “We need to get away!,” she yelled at Steve, turning around to see him holding Sam in a sitting position. The latter lazily waved. _Thank God._ _  
_ Natasha Romanoff could already hear the clattering of hooves against the asphalt and with every second passing, she grew more anxious.   
Steve stood up, looking at her very seriously. “You two, run. The Carnival is a huge event. There should be ambulances around. Find one, get him out of here.” She nodded, but wondered if Sam could run. He stood up, but she realized immediately how dizzy he was.  
The horse came closer. Nat handed Steve a gun and a knife.  
“Kill him,” she warned before hiding under the car with Sam. As soon as the rider had passed them, they crawled out on the other side and left.  
Steve, on the other hand, began running immediately. He passed a few houses, following a street, yelling at people to get away, to get into the houses and stay in there. A bridge came up before him, a bridge leading over a river.   
He took it despite realizing that the long trail didn’t really offer favorable hiding spots. Blood rushed through his ears. More shots. _Crap_. _Where do I go?_ _The Remnant must be close already._ From the corner of his eye, he saw a post with a little sign on top, picturing a man falling into the water. Probably a warning. Steve needed it, the post, pulled it out of the ground, and ran.   
The doctor’s words rushed through his mind. _If they want me to die, I will._ But Steve would not die. _Not again. Not today_ , Steve swore. Too many people needed him. _  
_ When he listened to the city noises he noticed how the shots sounded different than usual shots. The attacker used silencers, they didn’t want anyone to notice the death of _Captain America._ _  
_ A bullet whizzed past his arm and Steve jumped behind the railing that separated the sidewalk from the railroad tracks on the other side of the bridge. Thousands of padlocks hung there, on the metal grating, deflecting bullets for him. He ripped part of his uniform on something sharp, but didn’t get shot.  
The sniper had reached him by now, the police horse galloping past his position. Steve jumped out just in time to stick the metal rod in his hands out, creating an obstacle for the horse, to knock the rider out of the saddle. But no one was on there. The horse complained loudly, skidding over the rough asphalt. It got back up quickly, and ran off. At least it shoved people out of the way. But the _Remnant_ was gone. Steve’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing in concentrated anticipation. _Where was he?_ _  
_ For a moment, Steve heard only the rushing of the water underneath him and some music from the city parades. The next second, he detected the tiniest gush of wind by his ear. In one fluid motion, the asset jumped onto his shoulders, attacking without restraint. _He must’ve hidden higher up in the bridge._ _  
_ Steve’s muscles protested against the suddenly added weight. His hands shot up, came back bleeding. The _Remnant_ pressed against Steve’s windpipe. Rough knuckle gloves dug into his skin, creating marks. _He’s gonna choke me._ The grip wound tighter and Steve’s throat was on fire. _He couldn’t breathe!  
_ His hands grabbed the shin of the _Remnant_. With one fast motion, Steve yanked at it and the grip on his throat loosened. Steve sensed his opportunity, slammed himself against a big pillar. To crush the attacker on his shoulders for the chokehold. But the _Remnant_ jumped off at the last moment, rolled over on the asphalt. He was moving way too fast. His quick reflexes had protected him from Steve. The _Remnant_ wore a muzzle too, like the _Winter Soldier_ , and a dark gray uniform. A sticklike thing was fastened to his back, right next to the gun. His face only showed two cold blue eyes. The face’s skin was smudgy; dirt, blood and paint were on there. Steve had never fought anyone radiating aggressiveness like the _Remnant_. Maybe Batroc. But Batroc moved slower.  
It made the supersoldier wonder what barbaric things HYDRA had done to this person. They’d turned him into a thing. An animal.   
Steve received an elbow to his throat, making him cough, making his back vulnerable. The _Remnant_ kicked him in the back of his knees. Steve staggered to the ground. A knife gleamed over the soldier’s head and to get free, he kicked the asset in the balls. He didn’t get a reaction from him. _He isn’t in pain._ Without hesitation, the latter swung around, sending Steve flying onto the rails. Gravel and stones dug into Steve’s body, grazing the skin on his hands with a stinging fire. He felt bruises forming almost everywhere. Steve’s enemy wasn’t as heavy as expected, but incredibly agile and fast. A strong succession of punches followed, both of their hands’ knuckles bled at this point. There was no beauty in it. Only pain.  
Suddenly, the metal on the ground vibrated softly, making an odd sound. _The train!_ The train was coming. Steve jumped up, leaving the rails and tried to move onto the small ledge the _Remnant_ stood on. But the latter kicked him down, not allowing him to get away from the rails. His eyes were so hard, so focused, screaming dominance in this fight. As if it was his default in every fight. _Had Steve ever fought someone who resisted that much? Other than Bucky Barnes?_ _  
_ Steve tried to climb up the ledge again, but received a hard punch in the face. It split his lip. His tongue felt numb. With one strong pull, Steve slammed the _Remnant_ onto the rails. Something cracked. Probably the _Remnant’s_ arm. The feeling of the break echoed through Steve’s mind along with the haunting sound. He shivered. But it was a good sign - no metal limbs. Not another _Winter Soldier_.  
But something was off - he knew that since the first punch he’d had to swallow, even before that. This asset was too quiet, his punches too strong. Steve had fought experienced fighters before, the STRIKE unit had given him a taste of it in DC, the Wakandan SIW had shown him their skills. But this one - it was a mix of sly experience and incredible skill. Because it felt like Steve couldn’t get a grip on him, the asset’s blue eyes calculated so much faster than normal soldiers’ eyes did, he anticipated and reacted aggressively. He resisted Steve’s offense, much like the _Winter Soldier_ had before.   
The _Remnant_ was an opponent able to take Steve on. Which was a disturbing notion. It wasn’t only because of his body’s abilities. _He must’ve studied me beforehand._ _He’s understood my fighting style._ It made him unpredictable. Steve felt a hue of cold fear crawling up his spine like a ladder. It scared him that HYDRA had a second soldier who was familiar with his movements and his body. _As if the Remnant was specifically trained to kill him. Impossible… right?_ _  
_ Steve remembered the gun Nat had given him. _Kill him._ He reached for it. It was gone. Nothing in his belt. _Where -?_ He looked up, his eyes narrowing. Steve’s gun was in the hands of the _Remnant_. He’d stolen it. The doctor hadn’t been exaggerating.  
The _Remnant_ lunged at the soldier from the left side. Steve’s left was slightly weaker than the right, but it could make a difference now. Steve gripped the other by the neck, suddenly holding dark brown braided hair in his hand. _Braided?_ The _Remnant_ squirmed under the supersoldier’s iron grip. The asset kicked his shin multiple times and crushed his toes. Steve would be blue and green tomorrow. But he kept a tight grip on the hair.  
Nat had supplied him with a knife as well. He didn’t manage to cut the _Remnants_ ’ throat, not with that shaking and squirming. _Hold still, damn it!_ All the knife cut was the braid. It was a strange sound when it sawed through the thick hair. Steve shoved the asset, onto the rails and down there, the _Remnant’s_ mask fell.  
It was a terrible déjà-vu, one that even Steve’s nightmares couldn’t have created. He froze instantly, ignoring the increasing vibration of the rail tracks. _No_. He could feel his heart skip a beat, just like back in DC, when he’d suddenly recognized Bucky in the _Winter Soldier_. _No, please no._ The word came out shakier than he intended, but he needed to make sure. _Please, God, have mercy._  
“ _Rebecca?_ ” he breathed but there was no reaction from the young woman. The face, the eyes, and the brown hair, now shoulder-length, were stone-still.   
She looked like a female copy of Bucky. Exactly like him. But she didn’t speak. _They must’ve conditioned them to not react to anyone after Bucky talked to me and went rogue._ Then, the girl bared her teeth at him, moving into a defensive position. A gush of wind warned him and new adrenaline bolted through his system. _The train!_ _  
_ As fast as he could, Steve ran and jumped over the bridge’s fence, right into the river. The water slammed against him, forcing the air out of his lungs. From down there, he could see the woman - Rebecca? - jumping up as if nothing had happened. She pulled herself up into the green steel construction of the bridge, ignoring her broken arm, right before the train thundered over the bridge. A chopper appeared in the sky and moved towards the bridge, close enough to have the girl jump over. She held onto the helicopter’s landing skids with the one intact hand, her eyes scanning the river underneath. Steve assumed she would open fire on him, but nothing happened.  
A boat rushed through the water next to Steve and the suction pulled him under, thrashing his tired body against the wall of the ship. The waves were powerful, pulling from below with vicious, greedy arms, and with the adrenaline fading, his body’s exhaustion hit him like it the force of Thor’s hammer. But Steve grabbed the front side of the boat and remained there, invisible to HYDRA. When he searched the sky, the chopper was gone. Police cars had appeared on the bridge.  
The cold water licked Steve’s wounds until they burned. Now he would just have to find Natasha and Sam. Despite his attempts at devising a decent strategy, he kept coming back to this new and old face he’d seen. He felt nausea threaten him from the inside. He couldn’t believe it. _Rebecca_.  
_Y_ _ou never actually had any control over this life, Captain._

The evening was rough. Steve had left the river hours ago, but still felt the cold seeping through his muscles. He hadn’t managed to find Sam and Nat. After realizing how stupid he was for telling Nat to get Sam to a hospital, he had thrown away the city map he’d taken from a small, messy souvenir shop. Cologne had _sixteen_ hospitals.  _Crap_ , he thought. Nat and Sam could be anywhere. That led him to get another city map, which he unfolded, huffed at, and stuffed back into his wet pockets. Also, what if they wouldn’t take them in? Everyone could recognize them, after the events in Berlin and especially after turning the airport in Leipzig into a pile of garbage.  
While most of the people here remained carefree, running around in costumes and yelling words he didn’t understand, Helau Alaaf, a drunk person with a hideous green wig even complimenting him on his _costume_ , Steve just stood in front of the over-towering cathedral, shoulders slacked, head hanging and heart low. Steve sighed and after a few more minutes of resignation, he shook his head. _Rebecca_.  
It wasn’t her, she had died and Steve had seen her grave and Steve just didn’t know. Bucky had died too. _Right?_ He huffed. They’d buried the thought of him in an empty coffin. But Rebecca hadn’t even joined the war, hadn’t died there, how would Zola-? _What if they took her to use as leverage against Bucky? To break him?_ Steve didn’t want to believe it, but the memory of her face told him otherwise. Sure, there were a few features that were different, that didn’t look entirely like he remembered Rebecca’s, but the young woman was her. Undoubtedly. She must’ve turned into an adult and then, Zola had taken her.  
Steve scratched his head. Bucky had been 26 when he entered the war, Rebecca was five years younger than him, so she would still be in her twenties, depending on when HYDRA had torn their dirty claws into her. Rebecca, sweet Rebecca. The last time he’d seen her was 1940, she’d been just out of boarding school and returned to Brooklyn to visit. She lived with Grandma Barnes then and made the best casserole Steve ever ate. He still remembered what a feast that had been. She’d worn his mom’s old apron. And now, she was tried to kill him, just like her brother had a while ago.  
His eyes flitted over the big plaza before the dome, carefully checking all the rooftops for snipers and all advantage points for any sign of HYDRA. He sent one last look up the stunning architecture of the huge cathedral, a remnant of the past, just like him. He turned around and noticed the police officer standing a few steps behind him. He wasn’t looking his way, but Steve would have to just assume that he was HYDRA, or if not, police. Either way,  he’d have to assume this man was searching for him.  
The soldiers’ eyes fell on the radio that was clipped onto the policeman’s belt. If he’d be able to snatch that away, his chances to find Sam increased by a lot. Surely, the _“police“_ had spotted Nat and maybe there was a way to get Rebecca’s location. Also, a police radio was a good alarm system. If they followed him, Steve would know. So, he reached out and with a slow but controlled motion, the radio was out of the belt.  
The first steps, Steve walked, but then he jogged to the other side of the cathedral, his heart beating fast. But the radio was his.  
“That wasn’t very nice,” someone said and Steve turned around, caught in the act, heart beating fast. His knees were bent, his arms ready for the next fight. A girl was staring at him, with an eyebrow raised. _Had she seen him?_ But then he noticed the cane in her hands and how her eyes were closed. _Blind_. That still didn’t give him any relief. _What did she know? How long had she been standing there?_ _  
_ “You’re right,” he answered slowly, hoping to get out of this situation as fast as possible.  
“Aren’t you supposed to beat the bad guys?”  
If not before, he was definitely struggling with his words now. _What did she know? Who else knew?_ He looked at this girl who couldn’t even see him. “You recognized me.”  
“Yeah, the police has been trying to catch _Captain America_ since five hours. The idiot fell into the Rhine. We don’t have any suicide jumpers on the bridge and only few people are stupid enough to take a bath in that filthy soup people call a river. Your shoes are squeaky.”  
“Look, kid, I don’t want to get you in trouble. You should get out of here.”   
She grinned. He wondered how old she was. She looked like fourteen, fifteen.   
“I’m already in trouble. But your friends. They’re in the _St. Antonius_ hospital, that’s three kilometers from here.” She actually pointed somewhere and had Steve guessing whether he could trust her directions.  
“Thanks, kid,” the smile Steve managed was a little crooked, but he meant it.  
“No, thank _you_ for saving us.” However kind-hearted that sounded, it felt like another punch in the gut. Steve didn’t have the heart to crush this girls’ hopes and dreams, so he just whispered his reply to himself.   
“I haven’t even saved anyone yet.” It sounded pathetic.  
But this girl, with the stunning hearing range of a blind person, heard better than Steve had hoped, and replied with a kind smile. “But you will. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”  
He furrowed his brows, because, well, how could she know how strong he was?  
“You haven’t even seen me.” _I’m a mess._ _  
_ “I don’t need my eyes to see. I know they’re not gonna catch you. Have they ever?”  
She left him standing in the shadow of the majestic cathedral, joined by two teenagers who’d just run up the stairs to the plaza. They linked their arms with hers, laughed when she said something funny. One of them took her cane and with her in between them, they guided her over the stairs. _Was that what family means? That your family carries you despite your disabilities?_ While he got moving, that thought didn’t let him rest. Maybe for once, he wasn’t the one carrying everyone around, maybe this time, he was the blind girl in the middle.

* * *

 

**_Cologne, undisclosed location_ **

 

Doors opened, allowing a gush of cold air to sweep up the anxiety the five scientists who occupied this former hospital room exhaled. Guards entered, mercenaries with enough weapons to bring down an entire police station.  
Steps echoed in the empty hallway, announcing the presence of three more people. Handcuffs clicked. It took a dozen more nerve-rattling seconds for the people to enter the former medical room, two of them with heavy steps, but the third with near inaudible steps despite wearing combat boots.  
The asset’s eyes were on the ground while the guards’ hands held her shoulders, restraining her additionally to the obligatory harness on her back. It kept her wrists tied up behind her back and bound the rope by a strong collar around her neck. It wasn’t that - not the heavy restraints, nor the kevlar- reinforced muzzle covering the lower half of her face - that took the scientists’ breath away.  
One of them, a younger staff member who’d joined the team only a year ago, was especially taken aback with the change in atmosphere the moment the asset had stepped into the room. By the belligerence radiating off this subject, like she understood combat was her purpose and aggressiveness her truest self. And maybe it was. It was an understatement, however, to say that despite all confidentiality, this asset had a reputation. At least in this department she did, because no one else was allowed to even know she existed.  
The asset had taken place on an examination table in the center of the room. Its surface shimmered silver in the grey gleam of the moon’s light that fell though the windows, but now, drops of blood splattered on the surface, destroying its former sterility. Following protocol, the room’s lights were turned on slowly, everyone made sure the light increased softly.  
The young scientist nervously checked the sheet of paper on his clipboard, stepping towards the asset on the table who was surrounded by two other scientists assessing vital signs. Of course, he’d heard the rumors about people saying how this asset could smell fear on you. And of course, he’d also seen the damage the asset had done last week, the broken necks and the bloody throats. A bead of sweat tickled his neck and the young scientist just prayed the asset wouldn’t know he was scared. Too bad Rumlow wasn’t around anymore. He’d been a beast himself. At least they could trust Rollins to have their backs.  
But he tried to push his fear away, to focus on the numbers being dictated to him and to scribble them down in the correct order. Everyone was following the security protocol this time. They’d be alright.  
He knew the orders. _Avoid touch, any kind of contact and verbal approach._ He breathed heavily when he stood right before her, awaiting his colleagues’ next request, determine her pulse, desperately trying to ignore how blood-stained these combat pants were. How much more powerful these legs were than his, how several knives stuck in sheaths on there, how the asset’s eyes followed him the entire time.   
He just wanted to get this over with, to be honest. Because his heart was beating way too fast right now. The possibility of a very sudden and very painful death seemed very realistic all of a sudden. He’d seen it happen to other staff members before. He chatted with them during break and by the next, they were just dead. He knew she could do it. She had never hurt him, not really, but who knew when that streak would end? Even with his trust in HYDRA’s conditioning, there was no way he should underestimate this asset.  
They took the upper part of her combat gear off, leaving an open view on the damage on the subject. A thin shirt and a sports bra covered her skin, but let them see all they needed to focus on. Thanks to years of training, she knew what they expected to see. Not the many scars hidden underneath her skin, covered by the _SecondSkin™_ \- Technology developed for her, no, they only wanted the recent wounds.  
In the blink of an eye, her skin changed from a healthy color to a revelation of red and blue shimmers. Some deeper bruises surfaced as if someone had pushed them up from the inside. Her arm looked gruesome to say the least. They would have to work overtime to get the asset mission-ready again, but there was nothing the team couldn’t fix. For now, though, anesthetics would have to do the job.

After a few hours, they were done. The young scientist made the mistake of looking up for a brief moment, meeting the _Remnant’s_ eyes. Icy blue pushed him back with a determination only intensified by how she bared her teeth at him behind the half see-through muzzle. He staggered backwards, until his back hit the wall and he felt the distance between him and the asset was big enough to be called safe. If there even was a condition called _safe_ when the assassin was in the place.  
More steps sounded through the hallway and one of the asset’s supervisors stepped in, accompanied by a man who resembled his own superior in looks and attitude. The young scientist immediately recognized this man from last week, when he had come in with Mr. Lomawu, who apparently, didn’t have the means to appear today. This man, with a buzzcut and a determination in his step that probably both originated in his time with the military, eyed the room with a strict gaze and waved a handful of STRIKE unit guards in. Rollins secured the doorway.  
Whatever the man - his name tag spelled _Djenge_ \- planned, it couldn’t be good if he needed more guns in the room. The young scientist could tell Mr. Djenge wasn’t one to be messed with, one of those who were the top dogs in HYDRA right now, in a time that the organization was reduced to a small number of active units and divisions.   
Mr. Djenge exchanged words with the subject’s supervisor, demanded vitals plus further information, and nodded. Next, the mission report was delivered, but it didn’t take a scientist to tell that the asset’s voice sounded way too raspy, too rough.  
“What day is it for her?”, Djenge inquired.  
“Day Fourteen, Sir.”  
They talked a few more minutes, in hushed tones. As much the scientists wished that things hadn’t changed, that they wouldn’t have to switch up the schedule or the treatment, things didn’t look good. Things started to look even worse when they noticed how restless the _Remnant_ was becoming on the table. She was moving around, shifting her weight. The young scientist held his breath. No one had strapped the asset in, if she got up… They really needed this to get over with. Another pearl of sweat rushed down into his collar.  
Mr. Djenge’s voice cut through the quiet lab, demanded that all whispered conversations between the scientists and doctors find an end.  
“New mission objective,” he announced loudly. Obviously, the _Remnant_ wasn’t listening. They all noticed how her eyes whirred around the room and how her fingers had started to shake.  
“Soldier,” he bellowed. When nothing happened, he dared to step forward and grab the asset’s chin. The scientists froze collectively.   
A throaty growl vibrated through the air, a warning that was an announcement. An attack hung over the room like an impending bomb. They all saw how the asset’s teeth were bared again, how her body language switched to belligerent in a matter of seconds. Someone had the mind to prevent another bloodbath and pull this incredibly stupid handler back. He grabbed one of the spray bottles that always stood prepared for this asset and used it. Cold water sprayed over the asset’s face. There was an almost inaudible whimper and she sat back up, gaze clear and focused, betraying her skin that was rising in little goosebumps.  
“Bring the tranquilizers, quick!”, one of the scientists shouted from the background. All guns were locked in on the _Remnant_ in the center of the room now. _Stick to the protocol, dammit! Was that so hard?_ _  
_ “Soldier,” Djenge repeated. He ripped his arm out of the scientist’s hold with a brazen vigor, stepping forward. “Mission target override, new mission target: Find the _Winter Soldier_ , trace him.”  
When it stayed quiet and the asset’s fingers curled around the table, he continued.  
“ _Captain America_ took him prisoner. The _Winter Soldier_ is held captive by criminals. He deserves his freedom. Bring him back to the base and he can finish his good work.” Apparently, he’d read the reports issued for him and his supervisor, the part on how to talk to the asset. At least he put in a little effort.  
The _Remnant_ listened, now, the confusion swimming in her blue eyes visibly changed to worry. A precious kind of worry because it worked like a motor, providing drive when everything was taken from this subject.   
Mr. Djenge read lines from the manual now, obviously carrying out his orders, trying to get this done and over with. Didn’t they all.   
“ _The world is brittle…_ ”  
She struggled, clenched her jaw. Her eyes were pressed close. As always, she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t resist. But boy, this asset tried.  
_“The world is brittle / seamed with cracks…_ ,” he repeated with more emphasis. Everything HYDRA had planted into the once young creature screamed far too loud to be hidden much longer and she broke. Too weak in the shadow of her full power.  
“ _The world is brittle_ ,” she repeated with a husky voice. “ _seamed with cracks / ready to shatter._ ”  
“German,” he demanded.   
“ _Die Welt ist brüchig / gesäumt mit Rissen / bereit zu zerbrechen._ ”  
“Russian.”  
“ _Мир хрупок / весь в трещинах / готов разбиться._ ”  
“Wipe the asset, prep it and get it going.” The man checked his wristwatch with a frown, then turned towards the supervising scientist. “How long do you need?”  
“We can get the asset out in three hours, Sir.”  
“Good. Stick to the schedule, prioritize, don’t allow deviations. We can’t afford any slips. We need the _Winter Soldier_. Prepare the asset and send her in, three more missions have come up.”  
At this point, there was nothing more to fear from the asset. She was completely compliant now, knowing the futility of struggling. Like the light of a faded candle, the effect of her presence was gone. A strong hand, it was Rollins’s, gripped one of her arms while someone else guided a needle into her veins. Then, they pressed the asset into a seat right into the neighboring room, where a familiar machine waited. The machine secured the _Remnant’s_ arms, strapping them in tight. A mouthpiece passed the muzzle on the asset’s face and finally, everyone could do their work.  
The young scientist smiled. HYDRA was good at what they did and today, he had contributed to the big picture. And, even more important, he still stood in one piece.  
_They’d done a quite excellent job today._

 


	9. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Lullaby by Sia; Faith by Sleeping At Last; Eye of the Storm by X Ambassadors

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _   
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

 

Steve found the hospital. It had taken him ten minutes to get there; he’d walked fast, with a determined strut that reminded him of Peggy. It gave the impression that he wouldn’t be hurt by his circumstances, and Steve decided that he needed that, right now, to show off a little confidence he didn’t really have. _Is that what Natasha always does?_  
He had to hide three times on his way, three times a police car drove past him and didn’t notice the man leaning down to tie his shoes or the man hiding behind a guy in an inflatable Hulk costume. A look at a pharmacy’s clock told him it was past midnight already. When he finally looked at the hospital’s doors, it dawned on him that he would need a different way in. There was no way he could sneak past the front desk unnoticed and even if he did, the main hallway was long and full of people. Just as he decided to turn around and scout out the building for the ER section, a hand grabbed his arm. _They found me_ , his shocked brain screamed. The hand dragged him behind a couple of bushes lining up between them and the parking lots.

Steve grabbed the hand that held him and pulled the person to him, risking his life. If they had a shooter positioned - it was Nat. She looked at him, the early dawn giving her straight red hair a warm glow.  
“What are you-”  
“Come on. I have Sam in the car. We need to leave. You look terrible, too.”  
Steve followed her, but couldn’t grasp the concept of Sam, poisoned Sam in the car and not under medical observation, where he definitely should’ve been.  
“Why do you - Nat, stop. Sam is supposed to be in there and you - you just brought him here. What were you thinking? It’s not safe for him.”  
She frowned. Clearly, she’d hoped to get more support from the soldier.  
“He’s better. Get in.”  
“You can’t just-”  
“Hey brother”, Sam grinned, stretched out on the back row, smiling with his eyes half closed. He gave a lazy wave to Steve, who wasn’t done with his scolding-speech.  
“Hey, Sam. Nat, that’s just irresponsible. Give me a good reason why you got him out. Did someone recognize you?” The car moved and she got them away from the parking lots. At this point, he could just hope Sam had a decent amount of medication inside him.  
“No.”  
“Did you see the Remnant?”  
“No, I…”  
“Were you in danger? How did you carry him to the car? No offense, but he’s not a lightweight. And the car? Where did you get it?”  
“There was a guy next room who helped. The car? Some guy died this morning, I got his personal stuff, car keys and voilà - a car for your majesty.”  
“Just like that?”  
“Steve.” Nat sounded firm, she sent Steve a look that could’ve scared him off, maybe 70 years ago. Women - the only thing to scare Steve back then and now, he noticed with a hint of nostalgia.  
“What did you do for it? Don’t look like that. It can’t have been nothing.”  
“It was an emergency situation. I did what I had to.”  
Steve wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t like not knowing what happened. His eyebrow was raised and Nat frowned at him. She steered the car through the few streets that were still passable in this celebrating city.  
“So, what we know about Sam is that he wasn’t poisoned, not really. The doctors couldn’t detect a foreign substance in his body, there were no traces of anything suspicious. When they said that, I knew immediately what it was. A short term neurotoxin that usually doesn’t kill. It just gives your body the impression that there is no oxygen and incapacitates the victim.”  
“So, he was choking, but in reality, he wasn’t.”  
“Yes. Ten years ago, Hydra developed the formula for the toxin. It appeared on the black market but vanished after two months. The Remnant is one of the few who still use it.” Nat’s eyes flitted over Steve’s body quickly and she raised an eyebrow.  
“Where’s the gun I gave you?”  
“She took it.”  
“You shot him though, right?”  
“No, Nat. _She’s_ still alive.”  
Steve couldn’t see if the spy actually paled a little, next to him, in the low light of the night, but the uncomfortable silence he found himself in said enough.  
Despite the bad news, it didn’t slip past Steve’s tired, but still attentive eyes how often the spy checked the rearview mirror.  
“Someone is following us. I can feel it”, Nat whispered while hitting the gas pedal a little harder.  
Sam raised his eyebrows.  
“Yeah, you mentioned that twice now.”  
She sent him a half-serious glare, but made her way around a black jeep, driving way too slow for her liking. She sighed dramatically, earning a grin from both Steve and Sam.  
“What! Driving isn’t just fun and games.”  
She sent more than just one look into the mirrors and looked dissatisfied.  
“I swear, someone is after us.”  
Steve shrugged.  
“Let’s disappear. You can do that, right?”  
Natasha gave him a thumbs up and took a few turns that would shake any pursuer.

Steve looked around, hesitant to enter the unspectacular motel the redhead had chosen to stay in for the night. Would they be safe here?  
He followed Nat though, through the front and the hallways she treated like she’d walked past a hundred times before. The key she held said Room 14, but Room 14 was five rooms back and Natasha wasn’t slowing down.  
Steve didn’t say anything, he was just glad they could lie down somewhere and let their recent discoveries sink in. Although, maybe he didn’t want them to sink in, into his soul and into where it really hurt. His ears weren’t doing their job, he’d observed that during the last few hours. Everything sounded dull, as if he was in a daze. Maybe it was the sniper’s fault, messing up his left ear that soaked the gauze around it again. Natasha would give him a glare for it, but she’d fix the mess, that was for sure.  
But maybe it was just what she’d said earlier, fatal words echoing through his mind.  
“Bucky is gone”, captured his mind completely. _How? How did they manage to do that? Did they take him or what happened? Were the others fine?_  
That, he could answer - sort of. He knew Wanda wasn’t. She’d blame herself for everything, especially when Steve had given her the responsibility not for someone, but for Bucky Barnes.

Natasha had led them into a room that looked really nice, with one big bed, a chest, a desk and even an armchair. This wasn’t a hotel room, it was hers only, Sam realized when Nat opened the locked chest and the first thing in there was a tazer. Steve still stood around, gazing into nowhere.  
“Steve?”, she asked, touching his shoulder. He tried to blink away his sorrows but didn’t do a good job with that, because Natasha frowned.  
“Okay, who sleeps where?”, Sam changed the topic. “I can take the bed, I don’t mind.”  
He grinned cheekily and got a pillow in his face right away for that, shot with ultimate precision.  
“Yeah, you’d like that, huh?” A pillow fight commenced, one of the kind that you take serious, no matter how old you are. It lasted long enough to push away the horror that this day had been. For a few minutes, it felt like nothing had happened, like the three of them were just friends on a trip to a different country.  
Nat blew a strand of hair out of her face and looked at Steve. He smiled. _Mission accomplished. Good._  
“You can have the bed if you want.” The offer was all Nat could give him right now. Barnes was gone, they were running, T’Challa was probably furious and they’d lost their only source of information, this was crap, all of it. He could have the bed. He deserved it.  
Sam interrupted, apparently still not satisfied. “Nah. He’s got a super-back. He can have the armchair.” Another pillow followed and laughter bubbled through the room. “Just sayin’.”  
But Steve shook his head. Sam noticed the expression in his eyes; he’d seen that one before. It was one Captain America couldn’t even do, this was what insecurity looked like, in concentrated form. _Steve is afraid of hurting us. We couldn’t hold him down if he got a nightmare._  
“I’ll keep watch. If someone is following us, we should keep our eyes open.”  
_You feel that if you ~~open your mouth~~ close your eyes, the horrors might never end._  
Nat touched his shoulder, not sure what to say.

The sky had transformed into a dark mess of clouds and stars and the city’s thousand lights lit up in the distance. Nat had slipped into bed already, going through the brown files again, for the fourth time, still looking for clues, but Sam was still up, seated on the armchair with his wings on his knees, checking for loose screws and grazes. They still wore their normal clothes, only Steve was running around in just a pair of pants. His shirt was drying on the heater. Also, the cool air soothed the burning bruises on his back.  
He looked around, suddenly remembering that he had packed an extra shirt. If they’d need to get up quickly to leave or if Natasha became uncomfortable with him running around half-naked, he’d need that shirt.  
“I left something in the car, I’ll be back in a minute. Do you guys need anything?”, he asked, quickly pulling on one of Natasha’s hoodies that couldn’t have been hers, not size-wise, not smell-wise. Steve didn’t say anything, but they smelled like Clint. He always left his stuff in all kinds of places and then wondered who had taken them. Since the Battle of New York, when the archer had moved into the Stark Tower, later the Avengers Tower, he must’ve lost half his wardrobe. Soon, everyone started wearing Clint’s clothes.  
Steve’s bare feet tapped over the hallways of the relatively empty motel which wasn’t crappy, but not chic either. Perfect for hiding. He smiled, wondering if Nat had more rooms like this one, in different places all around the globe.

* * *

_**London** _

“Sir? We have incoming visual from Cologne. You wanna see this.”  
Both Colin and Janet’s heads whipped to the agent who’d called them. He was pointing at the main screen in the operation’s room. A video stream pulled up.  
What they saw was a bridge that looked normal, at first, with civilians walking over it, a train passing, nothing special. Then, suddenly, a tall man came running with some kind of bar in his hands and jumped over the fence. Another figure appeared, on a police horse, approaching the blonde very fast, jumping off before he could reach him.  
A fight evolved, a fight neither usual nor harmless. The agent zoomed in and the blonde turned out to be Captain America. The fight went on for minutes, until the unknown attacker was on the ground. Henderson already assigned tasks.  
“Who is this other person? Find out who this is - I wanna know everything. Nigel, Lance and Freddie, search the databases for anything you can find. Johnson, can you get closer? There’s a face. Show me the face.”  
“Not possible, Sir - Ma’am. The guy is right out of the camera’s range.”  
“Alright. Trail back to where they came from. Get anything you can, street surveillance, eyewitness statements, anything you can. Work with the police.“ She noticed how most of the agents from Colin’s team were hesitant to oblige to her commands; she’d address that later, in a private talk with him. Colin stood apart from the group, watching them like a hawk from a little afar.  
The video resumed, the oncoming train quickly dispersing Steve Rogers and the attacker, who disappeared in the bridge’s steelwork, getting into the camera’s focus only once, very shortly.  
“Pause, right there!”  
The picture was sharp but useless. The attacker wore a mask over the face, hiding every feature the CIA would search for. Every agent knew that after ruling out facial recognition, the next thing to look for would be fingerprints. The mercenary, if that was who this guy was, wore knuckle gloves. Henderson had noticed how one arm broke in the fight, but the guy just pulled himself up the steel bars with the other arm as if it was nothing. From the top, he jumped, holding onto a helicopter’s landing skids just when Janet thought they’d lost him.  
“Dammit!”, Janet cursed. “When did that happen? Why was there no police in the area?”  
“It appears this individual was positioned as a sniper, on a roof nearby, and assisted by what looks like police forces. They took down an entire police dispatch on Opladener Straße.“  
Whittaker moved now, conversing with his agents, giving them directives.

Janet shortly spoke with Neesa; her assistant hadn’t yet found any new details concerning the Avengers’s life that would provide a basis for their momentary investigation, but slipped a photo into her hands. It showed Rogers, Wilson and someone else in Brussels, in front of the hotel where the explosion had happened. Luckily, there hadn’t been any serious injuries or death of civilians. It just added to his list of crimes. Next to Rogers stood another person, identity hidden by a hoodie, but holding his hand.  
“We both know the rumors about him and Carter”, Janet whispered.  
“Rumors, nothing else. But I already checked Carter. She was in the office, logged into the system, working on a case in Italy at the time. She was definitely not in Belgium.”  
“Alright. Neesa”, Janet said under her breath to avoid Whittaker getting on her nerves again, “don’t drop Brussels. Do we know what they did there?”  
“The apartment that blew up was occupied by a former scientist called Dr. Aaron Vreis. We don’t know much about him, but it seems he was working for Hydra, five years ago.”  
“Maybe this is a revenge mission”, Janet thought, “but Rogers isn’t one for revenge. What is he doing?”  
“We’re following his car so far, but we lost the trail in Belgium.”  
“That’s not a problem, I think. Keep Brussels in mind, but find out why Rogers is in Cologne. What is his motive? Where does he go next? We need to be a step ahead of him. This is Captain America. He always has a plan. Put half of our unit to work and search for anything you can find. The other half will be assigned with whatever Whittaker’s”, she made quotation marks, “‘great plan’ requires.”  
She hated this - having to go behind her partner’s back to find out why certain things happened and what people’s motives were, but just asking Colin to share information wasn’t an option either. He’d just mock her for whatever she didn’t know and Janet had learned very early that it was best to just get the job done herself and stand above him and his opinion. He’d see what his reward was for being a jerk.

“So, what do you suppose we do?”, she asked, walking towards Whittaker with a special tone she knew he hated, to provoke him, sure, but much more to mask her own research squad already communicating tasks with Neesa in the back.  
“I activated the local assets in Cologne already”, he started, eyebrows raised when his gaze fell onto the necklace Janet was fiddling around with, “and I ordered them to find Steven Rogers.”  
“Isn’t it still too early for that? I mean-”  
“Jan, our mission is to locate Steve Rogers and put him back where he belongs - into prison.”  
“I agree.”  
“Do you, now? How reassuring.” Colin snorted and rolled his eyes, which frustrated Janet to no end. But she bit her teeth together and continued.  
“Nevertheless, we need to find out what his motives are, what he is looking for. It might be relevant to us too, given his record of activity.”  
“Listen, Jan. His motives don’t matter if we detain him. How about you put a little more effort into finding him, detaining him and then, you can find out all you want in a neat interrogation.”  
Janet just huffed and decided to drop this topic.  
“How many assets are available?”  
“Two, at the moment. Four in three hours, I called in two more to come in from Düsseldorf.”  
“Good. Do we know anything about the attacker? What do the databases say?”  
“There is nothing, not even in higher clearance, so in terms of our collaboration I convinced a partner from Wakanda’s intelligence agency to join and assist us. He mentioned that he knew something. He’ll be here by tomorrow morning.”  
That left the redhead speechless. What happened to the _“This stays between our units?”_ Well, she got why the Wakandan intelligence was preferred, but this was definitely not protocol.  
_Thanks for discussing this with me beforehand. How am I a task force leader if I’m left out when we get to making decisions!? I bet Colin is immensely satisfied with himself._  
But she didn’t say anything - if he’d communicated that change of plans with Kinney, she’d accept it. He knew something. But what was it?  
The video screen had been paused, still showing an image of the waves of the Rhine, just where Steve Roger’s head had popped up for a few seconds, pointing at the same direction as the CIA’s eyes. And just like the mercenary who’d fought him, he disappeared.  
“Sir, we have a lead on Captain Roger’s location“, an agent called out. “He was spotted an hour ago.”  
“Good. Follow that. We’ll get him this time.”

* * *

Natasha’s stolen car was parked in the inner yard that held space for five or six parking lots. Only two of them were occupied now. No one else was outside, it was eerily quiet. They had closed the gate to the street, no one could see him or come in, a hint of safety. Their car still stood exactly like they had left it, a few steps away from the other car in there.  
Cold wind surprised Steve, who walked along the house’s wall towards the car. Just when he wondered if the other car had an oil leak, a soft thud sounded him. Immediately, he turned around. A dark figure came running at him, approaching fast, with determined strides. _A mercenary!? Where did he come from!? Did he just jump down the roof?_  
Steve’s trained eye knew this figure, the movements, he’d seen them often enough. _Bucky._  
But he didn’t slow down. The solider rushed at him, pressed him into the wall, hard and with violent intentions.  
“Buck?”  
No answer. A knife glinted in the stranger’s hands, one of them silver.  
It was Bucky, no one else moved so fast, caught knives out of the air, pressed all the air out of Steve’s chest with one hit. _Hydra didn’t wake Bucky, they sent him to sleep. This is the soldier._  
Steve rolled to the side but was treated with a kick to his stomach. When he came back up, stones hit his back again, but this time, sharp metal touched his skin. His throat. Now, he didn’t dare to move anymore, he was tense. The hoodie was not made for combat, he was terribly exposed.  
The Winter Soldier stood so close Steve could feel the calm breath on his face. The soldier displayed his strength, the cold force that made him a killer.  
“Buck”, Steve croaked. “Прослушать!” A word Nat had taught him. _Listen_.  
Blue eyes focused on blue eyes. The Russian assassin waited, his face hard, the expression he’d learned from the beginning, the one he wouldn’t get punished for.  
_What now?_ The knife still nagged on Steve’s throat.  
His position, knife not far from _inside_ his throat, frustrated him less, to be honest, than the face of his friend right before him. Because Steve couldn’t read it.

Sam stepped into the yard.  
“Steve! What are yo-”, his eyes widened.  
Next, Sam jumped back behind the door. A knife shot right at him. It stuck deep in the door, exactly where his head had been. He couldn’t pull it out. _Damn metal muscles, throwing knives never go that deep._  
Exactly that metal dug into Steve’s throat know, making him gasp for air. His windpipe was crushed, breathing was a strain. The fingers on his jaw, digging upwards, denying him access to air, were relentless. His muscles already started to feel heavier from the lack of oxygen. For the second time today.  
The Winter Soldier was very well aware of the situation. He kept both his targets in view, making his kill order dependent on his victim’s strategies. He moved one hand to his back, where his Skorpion rested in his armored vest, ready for an execution, if necessary.  
“Don’t! What do you want?”, Steve rushed and paid for that. The metal fist connected with his face, leaving a bleeding nose. _You don’t get to ask questions._  
“Steven Rogers, mission objective”, the assassin’s voice recited, mechanical, cold. It gave Steve goosebumps. His name sounded foreign from the lips of this Bucky.  
“What orders do you have?”, he inquired, cautious, expecting another punch to the face, but it didn’t come. The Soldier’s grip on the blonde loosened a little and he stepped back, with a face impossible to read. Steve sucked in air hungrily, his knees had almost given out under his body.  
“Need to find Steven Rogers”, he said, but his voice cracked.  
“You found me, Buck.”  
_Was that enough to deactivate him?_  
“Don’t… don’t say that name”, he whispered. Out of instinct, the metal hand went up a little, before his slightly ducked head, enough to make Steve notice. A defensive motion, so subtle Steve almost doubted he’d seen anything. It dawned on him though. _Bucky got punished for remembering names._  
God, this was a terrible, terrible dream. _How do I wake up when I’m not even asleep?_

Sam walked towards them, the unscrewed door grip in his hands, in case he’d need it to defend himself, defend Steve or whoever. He eyed the multiple guns and knives on Bucky, in his holsters, and on his back. The metal arm glinted dangerously in the night and even though it was a broken man standing before him, Sam decided not to trust him this time. Hydra had messed him up again and this time, he might actually kill them. Yes, Sam had spent time with Bucky, even fought for him, but no, Steve was too optimistic and if any trouble was approaching - and it always was with the former hope of America - Sam would be prepared.  
He huffed and decided to walk back to the warm hotel, trying to get some distance between the killer and himself. His breath puffed out before him.  
Sam didn’t dare to turn his back on the Russian assassin, he had thrown a freaking knife at him, after all, and kept looking back to have an eye on the situation.  
Bucky had started trotting after him but stopped when he noticed that Steve wasn’t following them.  
The blonde still stood in the same spot he was in before, shoulders sunk and head down. It was a downright depressing sight that gave Sam goosebumps.  
Steve sighed a deep sigh, a big cloud went up to the sky, and as if he’d just breathed out every burden on his soul, he turned around, his face going back to the normal level of dutiful hope.

They managed to smuggle Bucky past the foyer and through the hallways without being noticed. On the way, they met Natasha, who looked more than worried and was armed in case something had happened to her two friends. She didn’t hesitate to rush toward Bucky, who dodged her in a swift motion, pressing her against the wall, her arm behind her back.  
Sam’s heart pounded hard when he saw that the metal hand was resting on the grip of one of the knives. When the para-rescue lunged forward, Steve held him back.  
“Bucky”, the blonde said and earned a growl. The knife was still stuck in the belt.  
Then, Natasha mumbled something soft and melodious in Russian that had the solider relax. He released her with nothing more than a warning glare. Sam breathed out. _If this happens a few more times today, I’ll go insane._ The woman gently pushed the soldier before her and they walked quietly.

Before they entered the room, Sam grabbed Steve’s arm, holding him back.  
“Look”, he said with his face pulled into a frown, “this is intense, I know. But are you sure you can help him right now?”  
That was a good, but terribly painful question Steve couldn’t answer, not in words, not for himself. Hope, however, was all that held his heart together, it had always been the source of his power. He knew very well that he needed to climb the highest and roughest mountain to witness that most breathtaking sunsets and night skies. As usual, he gave Sam an encouraging smile.  
“Buck will be fine.”  
“I’m worried about us. Hydra found a way in again. We can’t trust him.”  
“What are you saying, Sam? What am I supposed to do!? Leave him behind? Tell him to sit and wait until we come back to get him? You know I can’t do that.”  
“No expectations. Just don’t press him into any shape he cannot take yet. Don’t trust him right away. Who knows what Hydra told him to do.”  
“Why are you telling me that?”  
“Because, Steve. You’re the only one who needs to hear it. You’re reckless when it comes to Bucky. I can’t have you dying on me again.”  
“I won’t. Bucky won’t hurt me.” Steve sounded the most certain he could, like this was a universal truth he’d just recited. But this, Sam thought, this was just desperation packed behind a serious face.  
“You say that now.”  
That had Steve annoyed. Sam couldn’t know that. He hadn’t been on the Helicarrier with the Winter Soldier. Hadn’t been there when the Winter Soldier pulled Steve out of the Potomac. Not faced Bucky in his crappy apartment in Bucharest. Hadn’t seen him in Siberia. Hadn’t lived with him for the majority of his life.  
“What is your issue? Why can’t you just trust him?”  
“Because you do in the blink of an eye!”  
Steve just huffed and pushed past Sam. An argument was the last thing he needed right now.

With another person in there, the apartment was getting packed. At least they had food in the small kitchen cabinets. A strange atmosphere settled over the four people, it felt like a sizzle went through the air, making it somewhat electric as no one dared to say anything.  
Steve’s eyes were sharp on Bucky’s figure.  
He noticed when the assassin analyzed every single feature of the room with just a glance, how he planned escape routes in seconds and how his eyes lingered on the chest that Steve knew Nat stored weapons in. Without any commands, the soldier didn’t move, however, just took in the situation.  
Nat prepared a snack, well-deserved after their run and hide in the carnival.  
“Don’t you want to eat anything?”, she asked the soldier in between bites. No response. Steve winced on the inside, when was the last time Buck had gotten food? If he’d left right upon waking up in Wakanda, he must’ve traveled days without eating. A mission objective like the one he followed right now didn’t say “get take-out on the way”. He doubted Hydra would let him do that, from what he’d witnessed.  
“Buck?”, he questioned and blue eyes met his. The soldier reluctantly moved towards the table and Nat placed a small bowl of rice salad before him. The chicken and the rice in there were steaming.  
Bucky still wore his gear, the sharp contrast to the casual clothing of the others a warning. Under the light of the lamp on the ceiling, blood stains became visible and even cuts on his skin appeared. Some of his hair stuck together, strands glued together by sweat and blood.

His dirty fingers curled around the warm bowl, but he didn’t eat anything. Instead, the longer he stared at the food, the tenser he became, anxiety rolling off him in waves. Steve and Nat exchanged worried glances. _What is going_ _on?,_  Sam mouthed.  
Nat slowly reached over to place her hand on the assassin’s, but the man pulled it away.  
“Conditioning”, she whispered. “He can’t admit hunger.”  
Just then, the brunette turned his head towards Steve. His mouth didn’t move, but his eyes screamed fear. A shiver ran down Steve’s back. Hydra really knew how to make weapons out of living beings, of humans. They’d shut him down completely. Steve could only imagine how often Bucky must’ve gotten punished for asking for food until he developed a fear of it.  
“You will not be punished”, Steve said, gently and full of hope. The soldier nodded slowly, but remained stiff when lifting the fork to his mouth.  
_Yes, you can do it. Just- just put it into your mouth. Eat._ Steve was so impatient to see his friend overcome Hydra’s orders that he almost cheered him on loudly. Instead, he just held his breath.  
Bucky had the salad in his mouth, and his teeth clanked together, but instead of chewing, he just panted heavily. His whole body was heaving. Natasha’s eyes were wide, but what could she do? Bucky’s jaw was hard, his whole body showed his struggle. His metal hand crushed the metal knife he held. Sam eyed him nervously, this guy could explode at any second. Who knew he would take it out on? So he grabbed his handgun from the waistband of his jeans, keeping it underneath the table, finger ready to pull the trigger.  
Steve jumped up, rushing to Bucky’s side.  
“командир”, the soldier coughed. _Commander._ Steve froze. _Does he think I’m his new handler?_ “Pазрешение?”  
Steve’s head whipped around to face Natasha. “Give him permission!”, she yelled, panic in her eyes.  
“Eat!”, Steve shot, “Eat, dammit!” Steve almost threw up right there. _This was so sick._  
The metal fingers released the broken knife, its parts clanged against the table. Bucky chewed, releasing the tension of his jaw, but froze again.  
“Swallow!”, Steve ordered, watching the man struggle still. But he swallowed and when he looked back up, Steve gulped. Shame was plastered on Bucky’s face and fear filled his eyes.  
“готовность к наказание.”  
“What does he say?”  
Natasha's eyes went wide. “My god, Steve. He says he’s ready for punishment.”  


Anger was all that Steve could feel, it crushed him from within. A fiery, blazing anger aiming for destruction burned away all reason. _How dare Hydra take away not only memories, but basic needs from Bucky!?_ Steve fumed and he would’ve taken it out on any Hydra goon instantly. His fists burned, ready to give these sick bastards what they deserved. But right now, he stood at the dinner table, before Bucky, who’d shrunk back at the sight of his seething handler towering over him. Nat stepped before Steve, snapping him out of his hot trance. At the sight of the cowering Winter Soldier, Steve cursed and turned away.  
He went to the other side of the room, opened a window and leaned against the cool glass, his eyes never leaving the night outside.  
Sam’s heart almost crushed his chest. He knew Steve wasn’t one to storm out of the room, smash the door and make the whole hotel shake by crushing the apartment. Because Steve could. And Sam would’ve understood. Many war veterans used violence to create stress relief. But Steve didn’t. He just swallowed everything. And that was even scarier, because Sam started wondering what this murderous expression on the super soldier’s face meant. Also, when he would get to see that one in the field.  
“I can’t eat anything”, Sam whispered and left the table. He pushed his back against the wall, sliding down, his head in his hands. He started to feel Steve’s burden on his own shoulders. _What else did he have to take? How could fate be so cruel to a man already shattered?_ _Dear Lord, have mercy on him._

Natasha stayed at the table with the Russian soldier. He didn’t move much, he had looked at her a few times, with a short but confused gaze. The bowl of salad was empty now, he had eaten.  
“Take off your shirt”, she said. “I know you’re bleeding under that.”  
Sam sent her a look, but Natasha moved towards the assassin.  
He was more than hesitant, but when she stood right before him, he looked up. In her hands, a bowl of water, lukewarm, and a towel. He allowed it, to be washed, but he always made sure to keep Steve in his line of sight. Natasha frowned. Barnes didn’t respond in any way to anything that happened to him, how the towel wiped over open wounds and scars. It should’ve stung, his breathing should’ve hitched a few times, there should’ve been a wince. It was human to hurt. _This_ was like cleaning a gun. An object. Her hands moved through the brunette’s hair, shampooing them thoroughly, scraping the dirt and the blood off his scalp with great care. Steve and Sam were pulling out a map in the background and started to talk about it. She hoped they found a new angle to work from. To get Hydra. Get revenge.

Suddenly, something cold touched her belly and she sent a look downwards. A metal finger softly slid over the scar on her abdomen. The scar the Winter Soldier had created. Barnes’ eyes were completely fixated on the old wound. Natasha continued her cleaning process while watching the man sitting before her. She stood in between his legs now, to get to his neck without having to pull him out of his moment. It was precious, she couldn’t risk ruining this. Then, two hands were carefully placed on her hips. It was a subtle touch, too gentle to be the Winter Soldier’s. Metal caressed skin. James searched her eyes.  
“Natalia?“  
She couldn’t help but smile at the man who’d held her this way a hundred times before, but had forgotten every part the affections he’d confessed to her, back then, in the rooms behind the big dance hall, after her ballet performances. In Russian, back then, just like now, but his tongue still made the same sounds, the same soft pronunciation. Sounded familiar like nothing else.  
“Yasha.”  
“Where are we?”  
“In a safe place, for now.”  
“Good.”  
Natasha would’ve liked to laugh out loud, but her heart’s joy belonged to her alone, if she shared it with the men in the room, none of them would understand the meaning of what had just happened. She continued to wash his head. Natalia couldn’t help but put more tenderness into her movements. She could tell he enjoyed it, too, because the corners of his mouth were pulled upwards and his eyes almost closed. _He trusts me. He’d never close his eyes as the Winter Soldier._  
“Do you still dance?”  
“We have more important things to deal with.”  
This look on his face was different; she saw sympathy on his features. He saw her. _Her._  
He remembered. It wasn’t possible, not with all the wipings, but James had surprised her plenty times before. Natasha held onto all the hope she could reach right now; what else could she do? James whispered, there was a particular gentleness in his words.  
“You left yourself behind.”  
“We all did.”

Steve turned around. He smiled when he saw Bucky and Natasha talking quietly. It was a peaceful picture, the redhead standing in between his friend’s legs while he smiled softly. He couldn’t deny the little ache in his heart at that picture, he wouldn’t deny it but he wouldn’t dare to speak about it either. It was one of the many things the old blonde would keep locked up in his chest forever, as one of the little treasures labeled with Peggy’s name.  
Whatever they said, Steve couldn’t understand the Russian words that wrapped those two in a bubble for the moment they were in. Maybe it was better that way, he thought.  
The soldier turned back to Sam, who was still going on about all the things that had happened in the last 48 hours. _Had he really meant that? That they couldn’t trust Buck and-_  
“Steve?”  
“Um, sorry. I, uh, I agree.”  
“You agree? On what exactly? I asked what happened after Nat dragged me away.” Sam frowned at Steve, who stood next to him with one hand on his chin and his brows furrowed. All he could see was regret, tons of guilt and other emotions indecipherable.  
“You haven’t been listening, man. You really gotta stop doing that.”  
“Sorry, Sam. It’s just”, Steve sighed, quietly, to not have Buck notice, “what would you do if he was Riley?”  
There was no answer to that. Would there ever be?  
“Sorry, pal. I didn’t-”  
“No, it’s alright. You’re dealing with this way better than I would. We should probably just figure this out real quick. Whoever this Remnant is, there is no way we can have”, Sam shifted, arms crossed before his chest, “ _her_ running around shooting people with these darts of death.”  
Steve wasn’t sure what to say. Yes, they needed a plan, yes, they needed to protect people and yes, again, yes, they needed to stop Hydra.  
But could he tell Bucky that this asset was his twin sister? He sent another look to the assassin, his best friend, who was whispering something into Natasha’s ear. She smiled. Buck did too. No, not now, he couldn’t tell him right now. He swore to himself that this time, he wouldn’t let the situation escalate like it did with Tony.  
“I said”, Sam drawled out loud, pulling Steve back to the one-sided conversation, “that we should ambush her, so that you can draw her out and Nat can shoot her. That way it wouldn’t matter if you got your head stolen.”  
“No. We can’t kill her.”  
“Whatever you say, brother. Spare me the “ _she’s just like him-_ speech”, I get it. Second chances and brainwashing and all. You might have to convince her, though.” Natasha. _Kill him_ , she’d said before.  
Just then, Steve noticed how Nat and Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, close to the couch Steve was on. _When had they sat down there? I really need some rest. I’m not as perceptive as I should be._ Steve sent a look through the room. Sam seemed a little sweaty. _Was he still afraid of Bucky?_  
“We can’t kill the Remnant and we won’t. We’ll save her.”

From the corner of his eye, the blonde noticed the slight reaction in Bucky’s face, in his posture. _Does he know? Does he know it’s Rebecca? What if he does? He’d say it if he did, right? That we had to save her? Bucky would never have her die to end this. Right?_  
“The Remnant”, Bucky murmured, repeating the name as if it triggered something in his mind.  
“What do you know? Any metal limbs?”, Sam inquired.  
“I… I don’t - there was something”, he trailed off, lost in surfacing memories.  
“That’s impossible. Her arm broke and the other one was normal. I would’ve felt it. No metal.”  
“But- she had an arm like me… before. I saw it… I think”, Bucky looked confused, his face pulled into a desperate scowl. _How terrible must it be to not be able to recollect your past, to not know what things are real and which aren’t._  
“What do you know about her training?”  
“Not much. The first years must’ve been in analogy to what developed into the Black Widow program, at least in some aspects. She completed the test, returned after years, but got transferred in ’68.”  
Everyone turned towards Natasha, whose eyes looked a little glassy, focused on something behind the windows, something beyond what could be seen with the eyes.  
“The test”, she repeated, dragging the words out as if a heavy burden hindered her voice.  
“When we were in training, they always kept us girls together. We were friends, played with each other, shared a bedroom, danced together. When they set us out in the tundra, there was only one survival kit.”  
It was quiet for a few seconds, a serene silence settling in the room. Steve was the first to speak up again. He needed to come up with a plan.  
“Well, what we know for sure”, the blonde said, “is that she’s really fast, she’s really strong and will try to choke us. Or shoot you with poisoned darts.”  
“Yes”, Bucky’s face lit up; he’d grasped a new information, “she doesn’t need any weapons. She’ll take whatever you bring. But…poisoned darts?”  
Sam nodded and recollected his experience with the darts. The assassin’s eyes widened at the story.  
“What you went through was only the first part. Tonight won’t be fun.”

Just as the brunette said it, Sam could feel something rumbling in his stomach. He’d written it off as stress and exhaustion before, but now, everything rebelled wildly within him. A second later, he was running to the bathroom. He retched into the toilet for minutes, Steve at his side, Nat getting a cold, wet towel ready for him. Barnes only mustered a pained expression of sympathy.  
When Sam had finally calmed down, it was already late, getting closer and closer to midnight.  
“Just go to bed”, Steve ordered. “All of you. I’ll take watch. We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow.”  
Sam was put onto the armchair wide enough to lie in, with a bowl at his side, just in case. Natasha took the bed, carefully staying on her half while trying to convince Barnes to get some sleep as well. Steve didn’t pay attention to the whispering, just stood and watched the city through the room’s windows. His stomach growled and he grit his teeth in annoyance. _Damn that fast metabolism._ But he went to the small fridge hidden in one of the cabinets and fixed himself a few slices of delicious and, he smiled, nutritious German bread.  
After minutes of silence, he allowed himself a look through the room. It had quieted down. Besides Sam’s raspy breathing, there was only a low hum that seemed to come from Bucky. He’d ended up in bed, at Natasha’s side, and to Steve’s surprise, the two were cuddling somehow, with the redhead completely disappearing in the strong brunette’s embrace. A sweet view. It didn’t take long, though, until their blanket rustled and the wide-shouldered man left the bed to join his old friend at the table.  
Their eyes searched the other’s, attempting to read all the unsaid words and stories they daren’t talk about, to understand each other more deeply in a time of running and hiding.

“I know her”, Bucky said, voice grave. “The Remnant.” A burden fell from Steve’s shoulders. _So he knew._  
“I’ve seen her in training and in the field. She’s dangerous, even to us, Steve. Tell me exactly what happened.”  
So the super soldier told him, every little detail, the scene playing anew before his ever vigilant, but now, tired eyes. Only Rebecca - he left that out.  
“To be honest, I don’t think she meant to kill you. If she hasn’t, it means the mission was to scare you, to remind you of Hydra’s power. Make you feel helpless.”  
And it worked, Steve realized, deep down, she had. But she’d also given him something to fight for. Maybe Hydra was stupid, maybe they were blind. But they had fueled his fire and that would ensure their fall.  
“What do you know about her, Buck?”  
“Not much… at all. I was frozen a lot and she was kept somewhere else most of the time. Her first mission was to protect me and since then, it took them a long time and tons of recalibration to get her ready for other missions. She - protected me, instinctually. That’s why they made her my backup operative after a few years.”  
_Crap. He doesn’t really know. How do I tell him?_  
“Do you know how old she is?”  
“I lost track of time, but she was there early. How long was I in the tube after what happened in Siberia?”  
“Half a year.”  
“They were faster than I thought. Damn, Hydra is desperate. Listen, Steve”, at that point, Steve was looking at someone else again, he thought, at the distant assassin they’d created, “until now, you’ve done everything Hydra wanted you to do. They planned this, all of this.”  
“But they don’t know you found us. And our countermove will be unpredictable. Buck- there’s something you need to know. I said we can’t kill her - we really can’t.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I saw her face. It’s Rebecca.” Steve’s voice was soft.  
Bucky sat completely still, only breathed silently, into the darkness and Steve wondered if the brunette even understood the message. No reaction.  
_Crap, that was insensitive. What if he doesn’t even remember Rebecca? What if he’d worked with her and didn’t realize it was his sister? I should’ve started differently. The entire thing._  
“I’m sorry, Buck. I shouldn’t have…”  
“It’s not possible, Steve. Right? No, it can’t be her.” Bucky’s voice trailed off, like a spark falling apart in the night air.  
“I hoped you knew…”  
“No…“, his voice trailed off.  
In the dark, the blonde couldn’t really identify the slight wetness on Bucky’s face, but he thought it was a tear. He didn’t blame him, not at all.  
“She can’t have been - she lived in Illinois, for God’s sake. In Illinois. How would they-? The Remnant, Predator, whatever, came from New York. It’s all wrong. I saw her return from the test. I worked with her, had her back while she had mine. We did _kill missions_ together. That’s not Becca.”  
“I thought so too. I’ve visited her grave in New York, Buck. An empty grave, that’s not possible, right? But then again, it was right next to yours, two empty coffins in the earth. With Hydra, anything is-”  
“It’s not her.”  
Bucky didn’t wait for a reply, just turned around and walked back to the bed that Natasha still slept in. The blanket rustled and for once, it was completely silent, although Steve knew Bucky was hesitant to sink into sleep, to be at the mercy of his night terrors. He’d doze, a form of sleep practised a thousand times before, the sleep every soldier knew.  
Steve was breathing hard, he felt restricted for the second time after the serum. He didn’t have siblings, he wasn’t sure how it would feel to lose a sister, but he knew the feeling of losing a brother. While he didn’t see Rebecca often, the image of her sweet eyes and loving smile was burned into his mind.  
_We’ll find you_ , he promised to himself. _Hydra will pay._

* * *

_**London** _

It had been hours since the search for Captain Rogers. Yes, someone had spotted him, but that trail had ended at the St. Antonius Hospital and even with the thorough search, there were no traces of him. The nurses there refused to give information about patients - which yes, was the law, but also slowed down everything. It was the first setback this morning.

The agents in the operations center grew restless, and Henderson noticed. The windows were tinted, but not a single ray of sunlight came through anymore; it had been a long night and everyone around here was slowly getting tired. Janet was on her third coffee and watched Colin, who was really getting on her nerves by now. It wasn’t even what he said or did - just being in the same room for so long was nerve racking and almost unbearable, especially when Janet was supposed to give directives, unite the units and get this mission done. She groaned inwardly. All of this - this mess - would be noted underneath the mission report plus her own permanence records. It could be the one factor to lead her superiors to turn down mission requests or even position applications. Janet frowned. All because of Colin’s stupid ego. It had ruined everything. And they’d been so close, for a little while. Maybe that was all she’d ever get from him. Maybe it had been an illusion, the calm before the storm, but Janet swore she’d loved him during that time and she’d always keep that version of him locked away in her heart.

Neesa appeared next to Janet, her dark hair tied into a messy braid. Annoyance hung over the room by now. It was the little things, the ticking of watches, the relentless clacking of keyboards and strands of hair that just fall into your face every five seconds.  
Not that the big things weren’t less annoying, but they stirred way more emotions than just simple annoyance. For example that new decisions had been made, apparently, new directives had been given every single time Janet had stepped out of the room, to just clear her head or to go to the bathroom.  
It was frustrating, but it made her unit’s success even more victorious. It had been her team that found the trails of Steve Rogers in front of Cologne’s Cathedral and close to the hospital. But now, everything stood still, the seconds dragged by and Janet clicked the pen in her hand open and close faster than the blink of the eye. The agent next to her looked up, irritated.  
“Sorry”, she mumbled and walked away.  


All of the sudden, several things happened at once. Neesa’s phone made a strange sound, causing both women to look onto it and on the other side of the room, two agents ran into each other, spilling coffee everywhere, which included Janet’s notes. At the same time, the door opened and someone stepped in.  
“Shit”, Janet yelled, completely oblivious to their visitor and ran over, completely ignoring Neesa, who took the call. Janet hadn’t even seen the caller ID, but there had been one, maybe it was one of their own guys. Coffee was on the carpet, between the shards of coffee mugs, on the desks, keyboards and even on the wall. Of course, the two agents quickly mumbled their apologies, grabbing towels to clean up the mess, but still, Janet’s notebook looked like she’d dunked it into the brown liquid. She cursed. Everything was in there. Everything Neesa and her had worked out.  
“Ma’am”, an agent of her own team nudged her carefully and earned a frustrated look.  
“What?”  
“Our associate from Wakanda is here.”  
“Great”, Janet huffed. “Thanks, Liam.” _Great. Now I can’t do anything. Can’t present my ideas, theories, suggestions, anything. That will be one hell of a first impression._ The little notebook was completely soaked. Useless even with millions of words in it that could mean the world. That could change the world.  
Nevertheless, she went to greet _Mr. Lomawu_ , at least that was the name his visitor pass stated. He appeared very formal, in a suit and drenched in politeness. Firm handshake, a man with a mission. He smiled at her and she wondered how much the SIW knew about the CIA’s activities. But he seemed nice, with a voice deep and soothing to her ears. _Lawrence_. She could probably listen to this man for hours, she felt like finally, someone was listening to her. He watched her whenever she spoke up and replied with that warm, foreign accent of his, even encouraged her ideas. She wanted to deny it, but it felt good to be finally acknowledged and reassured by someone not just Kinney. Neesa ended the call in the back and returned to Janet.  
“You remember Miami, the big break-in at Stark Tech?”  
“As if I’d forget that. Any news?”  
“Apparently one of his high-tech machines went online and they could trace it right before the connection was hacked and cut. What they came up with was an address in Munich.  
“Okay, good. Send a team in. They are supposed to examine that address, check it out, look for anything that could give us further clues concerning Rogers and Wilson. They’re friends with Stark, or, were, so I’m sure there will be a connection.”

As soon as they briefed Lomawu on the situation in Cologne, and the unknown attacker was mentioned, Lawrence demanded the footage from the bridge. Whittaker tried to steer them back to Steve Rogers and Lomawu nodded, saying that finding him might take a while but as soon as that was done, they’d definitely have to deal with the other attacker.  
“Do you know who that is?”  
“I do have intelligence on this asset, but I need to inform you that this is not a real person. There is no identity assigned to the body of this operative. You can pull your agents out of there; even if you found fingerprints or DNA residue, I can guarantee that none of your databases will come up with a result.”  
“What do you propose we do instead?”  
“I know how averse your agency is to trusting others with your targets and objectives, but in the name of his highness, King T’Challa of Wakanda and incumbent Black Panther of our entire people, I politely request to take on the unknown target. We have specialized agents with unique backgrounds that I would like to put in the field.”  
“Yes. We should-”, Colin started, but Janet interrupted him.  
“Shouldn’t answer that immediately. Please grant us discussion time. We’ll come back to you.”  
Lomawu nodded respectfully and Colin pulled Janet back.  
“Why did you do that?”, he hissed.  
“Just consider our options for a moment. I know, we’re in no position to deny anything to a king, let alone the King of Wakanda, but we joined units. Don’t tell me we’re short on agents with field experience. Secondly, we’re in no position to grant or deny the request on our own, Colin, and you don’t get to ignore that. Leave this to Kinney.”  
“You’re in no position to decide over my unit. Also, everyone is busy, we’re drowning in work. I can already see the mountains of paperwork looming on my desk.” He paused, glaring at the woman right in front of him. “What happened to you trying to claim any mission in reach? And, especially, the ones that are not yours?” Colin knew he’d have to push her a little.  
“What happened to you being such a jerk? Behind my back - that’s fine. In front of my unit, even visitors - that’s just low, Colin. Get over Hendrik.”  
“You’re stupid if you think that this is about your husband.”  
“Great. If it isn’t, you have no excuse to behave like an asshole.”  
Colin snorted and with a dark gaze, he added, “don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”  
With that, he walked away. _Great, that was better than what I’d hoped for._

Janet held her head up. If Colin wasn’t able to talk to her in a respectful way, he shouldn’t be surprised if she’d decide over his head. She rang Kinney’s office a couple of times, but no one answered. _Fine. What if this is an emergency decision?_ She could claim that this was an emergency, that it was a question of death-or-life, but she’d be no better than Colin. It wasn’t life or death right now. Every agent learned the criteria. They were not fulfilled right now. Henderson knew what their superior thought about this topic.  
“Mr. Lomawu, I cannot say that the agency appreciates giving responsibilities out of hand. Please consider waiting for our director’s decision.”  
“Of course. My king asks me to express our gratitude, should we be granted authority to intervene in this mission.” Lomawu smiled kindly and nodded. He went back to the streams of intelligence running through the big screens. _He knew from the beginning that they’d said no. Just another step in the big plan. Soon, they’d be able to actually start with the executions. No matter if she didn’t want to allow his team yet, soon, there’d be no other way. She just didn’t know that yet._

Colin stood next to his friend, Lawrence. The two men watched Janet rush through the room.  
“She’s a problem, Colin.”  
“Don’t think I don’t know that. She needs to leave.”  
“She’s a stubborn mule. Like you.”  
“And a risk to the entire operation. If she finds out I give order to shoot on sight, even if she finds out that the Black Widow is with them - and that we knew all along - she’s gonna report to Kinney and get us all beheaded.”  
“Let me take care of that. She trusts me, at least she wants to. You did a good job in rushing her to a decision, even if it was a no. She needs to feel like everything is in her hands. I’ll get Barton, Maximoff and Lang prepped for the hunt of the Remnant.”  
“Your asset, the unknown attacker. Why would you send them to kill it?”  
“How else do you want to get Rogers in? Or Romanoff? I’ve hunted a lot in my life, but they’re game that doesn’t want to get caught. They know we’re after them and both are smart. But we have aces up our sleeves they couldn’t dream of.”

Lomawu checked his laptop and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. Colin continued from there. Whatever Lomawu had planned, the CIA units needed objectives.  
“Listen up, units, we know exactly where Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson are right now. They are located in a nondescript motel in Cologne. Instruct our assets and direct them to Engelsstraße. We can’t afford to lose them tonight. Get on it!”

* * *

The night was calm for the most part and that was a blessing. Steve watched over his sleeping comrades, rushing to the Falcon’s side three more times, getting him to the bathroom.  
Other than that, his thoughts always circled around the same questions. _How did Hydra know how to get into Wakanda? They had a mole in there, but for how long? What did they know?_ There was so much to think about. Steve blamed it on the tiredness that at one point, all the questions and assumptions turned into wild theories. _No_ , he scolded himself, _Natasha was not working for the Red Room anymore, she did not call us out of Wakanda to get Hydra’s plan rolling. She was trustworthy. But what if Hydra had known Natasha would call them? Was there a possibility-?_  
Steve sighed and made himself a cup of tea. His face was in his hands; this was all so confusing. They’d left Wakanda on behalf of Nat’s call, to help Bucky. The CIA was after them, but that was to be expected. At this point, it wasn’t even about Bucky anymore, well, to a certain degree, yes, but now, Zola was looming over the horizon again like a dark cloud and everything this man did resulted in death and destruction. _How would they get his location?_ It made sense that the biochemist and geneticist stored his mind in more than just one place, to make sure it wouldn’t get lost at the first hit.  
Steve balled his fists. He’d take Zola down _._ But they needed an Agent Sitwell right now, with confidential information to spill.

Suddenly, a phone pinged and Natasha groaned in her sleep. Peeling off Barnes’ metal arm from her waist, she sat up, pushing red hair out of her face with one hand before grabbing her phone. Steve observed her from the darkness, grateful for the serum’s effect on his visual abilities. He made out the Russian’s eyes, which were open wide, quickly reading through the text on the screen. She gave Steve a nod and leaned down to the assassin in her bed, gently patting him awake. Steve quickly walked over, awaiting more information.  
“They’re coming”, she explained, “the CIA found us. They just left their safe house.”  
“And how much time does that leave us with?” Bucky looked up, quickly pulling on his suit.  
“Four minutes. We need to get out of here as fast as possible.”  
Steve nodded and went on to wake up a pretty groggy Sam, who just groaned and dragged himself to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Nat scurried to pack some stuff, handing Steve and Bucky guns. Especially Barnes’ face lit up when she put something into his hands and the two Russians shared a meaningful expression Steve couldn’t understand. Two minutes left. _Crap_.  
“We’re not going to be out of here quick enough. Can you buy us some time?”  
Natasha raised an eyebrow, quickly going through all the different possibilities when Sam appeared, pale, but standing and eager to get his stuff together.  
“How far is the local police from here?”, Bucky asked.  
“A minute away.”  
“You’re still the same. Always living on edge, huh?”  
“Well”, Nat grinned. “Anything else is no fun.”

 _“Agents, confirm your location. Are Agents Cologne and Agents Bonn with you?”  
“Copy, Sir. We’re a minute from Nießestraße right now. Give us two minutes.”_  
What happened next was completely unexpected. Bucky took his gun and fired two shots, while typing 110 into Nat’s phone. Steve and Sam almost jumped to the ceiling.  
“Polizei? Ich habe Schüsse in der Engelsstraße gehört. Bitte beeilen Sie sich.”  
_“Good. Get in there.”  
“Sir. Permission to shoot?”  
Colin hesitated and looked around. Lomawu was faster than he expected, he’d already started to involve her in a conversation.  
“Permission granted.”_  
Sam just stared at him, waiting for the assassin to hang up. He didn’t need a translator to understand what Barnes just did.  
“Are you crazy!? What are you-”  
He stepped right before the assassin and sent hostile glances towards him.  
“I just saved all your lives. You’ll see. Let’s go.”  
_“Copy. Reached Nießestraße. One minute.”_  
They rushed through the hallways, Nat had locked the door to her room, securing all traces. They didn’t even manage to put their stuff into the car’s trunk, they just drove off. Police sirens screamed through the night.  
_“Sir, we hear police. What is going on? Sir?”_  
Steve’s hands shook lightly while he kept the speed slow, despite all flight instincts.  
Several cars appeared in the short street and armed CIA mercenaries in civilian clothes jumped out of the car, guns ready.  
_“Police force? We didn’t send them. Agents, do you copy? Get in there!”_  
The mercenaries stood before the building, waiting for the doors to be opened. The police arrived just a few seconds later, immediately alarmed by the armed men before the building.  
Bellowed commands echoed through the street and in the rearview mirror Steve could see that the police was detaining the wildly complaining CIA undercover operatives.  
_“Sir, they’re detaining us! Sir, I repeat, what’s going on?”  
“Sir, we lost them.”  
“Shit. Don’t worry, we’ll get you out.”_  
Bucky smirked.

Sam was back to sleeping in the back row of the car, thankfully, he was getting better and hadn’t thrown up again. Steve was driving but kept watching Natasha.  
“How did you know?”  
She looked up, pretended to look surprised, or maybe she really was, he couldn’t say.  
“There’s an informant who owes me.”  
“Mind telling me where I’m driving?”  
“The files don’t say anything, so I’m not sure as to…”  
Bucky interrupted her by grabbing the files she’d managed to get a hold of in the chaos of scrambling out the apartment. His eyes flew over the pages of Russian.  
“These are useless. I looked through them five times already.”  
“But you don’t know what to look for”, Bucky stated, “this letter in this spot here doesn’t make any sense. Hydra is hiding stuff, obviously. Give me my file, please.”  
He read through them, comparing them.  
“This is fake. I never had a mission in Augsburg. I’ve been to Germany many times, but this is wrong. Go there.”  
“Are you sure? If this is not where Zola is, we’d lose half a day.”  
Bucky huffed, still looking at the papers, tracing the Russian letters with his metal finger. It made an eerie, scrubbing sound in the low hum of the car.  
“I’m sure. It says that I shot an officer of the Military Intelligence Brigade, but didn’t kill him, leaving after visual recognition confirmed the Winter Soldier’s presence. That’s bullshit. Before Fury in DC, one bullet meant one corpse. Besides, Germany was always kill mission or recalibration. This would just categorize as intimidation, nothing else.”  
The hair in Steve’s neck was raised. _Just intimidation._ As if that was a good thing. What would happen if they visited those places in Germany? Could he trust Bucky to not have another relapse?  
“Is there anything special in Augsburg?”  
Natasha looked up.  
“You missed out, Rogers. After the war, troops didn’t get pulled out of Augsburg. The US Army main quarters for Germany remained there, plus one for the War Crimes Groups. The city still is basically a US town with all the soldiers there. A lot of the area consists of army buildings and Zola could’ve easily hidden his brain in there.”  
“Exactly. Hydra dug deep roots in Germany.”  
“We’re not gonna touch his brain, though, right?”, Sam murmured, half-asleep, “‘Cause that’s gross.”  
“Yeah, you’re not gonna touch anything”, Nat chuckled and felt his forehead. “How do you feel?”  
“I don’t think I’ll throw up again.”


	10. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Mind Heist by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _   
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

 

Lightning struck the sky once more and water kept shooting at the endless road before the car Natasha had stuck to since Cologne, highlighted by the headlights. Silence ruled the atmosphere in the vehicle, but it was a comfortable one. Everyone but the spy was asleep and with the three soldiers breathing regularly, the redhead switched from Sam’s annoying 40’s music to a radio station that broadcasted traffic news on their area of the Autobahn. With those dark clouds in front of the sky and the gallons of water on the asphalt, she was certain there’d be accidents and traffic ahead.

Natasha sent a look towards her phone in the main console. Next to it, a sleepy Steve, with his arms crossed and his wide frame buried back deep into the small car seat. She eyed his blonde hair. It had gotten longer and some of it was hanging into his face. America’s poster boy. Still 26. Steve was, to be honest, almost as young as her, they were amongst the youngest of the Avengers, but carried so much of the burden.  
Right now, Steve was just the boy he could never be, in a moment of peace, asleep, without any expectations to him, with no one telling him what to be or what to do. Natasha sighed. She was delighted the blonde rested. His behavioral changes before had not passed her analyzing eyes, she had noticed how fast he had offered to take watch in the motel despite his obvious exhaustion. This was in no way just his normal level of sacrifice, no, she knew it was deeper and that she had figured out from Sam’s compassionate mimics. Maybe something had happened in Wakanda. Something was wrong with Steve Rogers and she prayed he’d be alright now that James was with them. But it was a lame hope because even a best friend could not fix the gaping wounds still tearing the super-soldier's soul apart. A muffled sound made her snap out of her thoughts, made her eyebrows raise when she noticed an incoming call. Making sure none of the others were awake, she took it, whispering replies to the caller.

Steve woke up to the relentless thrumming of rain onto the car’s roof and windows. But there was something else he made out, a hushed voice. With the first words, he knew that it was probably not meant for his ears, so he made no signs of waking up. He was aware that eavesdropping always caused trouble, it had eighty-five years ago, when his Ma pulled him away from the kitchen door by the ear, and surely, it hadn’t changed since then. Maybe this was just one of the few things that would never change. Like overbearing grandmas. Or secretive spies.  
Natasha went on, not aware of her listener.  
“As I said. - No, I have them. - I will deliver. - Yes, I’ll keep you in the loop. - They don’t suspect anything. - Good.” She put the phone back into the middle, between Steve’s and her seat and he started rubbing his eyes. His heart pounded fast. _Would she know? Had she noticed?_  
“Who was that?”, he murmured, but got no answer. Natasha kept her eyes on the road. _Was she thinking about what to say? That couldn’t be good. Was she keeping something?_ He prayed she was not, he couldn’t deal with any secrets right now.  
“Nat?”  
“Don’t worry. Just have to keep my ears everywhere. Nothing spectacular.”  
Steve nodded but really hated what was going on. Why did it sound like the spy was hiding something from him? If she needed to communicate with the spy community, he was fine with that, but _They don’t suspect anything_? That didn’t sound like a regular exchange of information at all. Who did she mean by _They_? Steve, Sam and Buck? Or the CIA?  
“I heard some of your conversation, you know”, Steve decided to confront his friend. _Would she try to find an excuse? Would she answer him at all?_ In the best case scenario, she would share information, who she’d been calling, what was going on or if they had to prepare for worse. He gulped. He knew one thing - dodging answers meant hiding the truth. He couldn’t trust her if she did that.  
“It’s none of your business.”  
Steve was at a loss of words. Natasha was straight to the point and while he appreciated that she didn’t try to make up a lie, this situation shattered him. Either she didn’t trust him enough to share the truth with him or - or what? How was he supposed to trust her like this?

Another bolt of lightning struck, sending a glaring light through the car. The thunder afterward was the more majestic force though, sending the two dozing soldiers on the backseats into a jolt.  
“Holy”, Sam huffed and scratched his arms. “If that’s our Space Prince, I’ll…”  
Another set of thunder rolled over the car.  
“It’s right above us”, Natasha informed, motioning towards the radio. “They already reported several accidents on the A2, which is the Autobahn we’re driving on.”  
Right then, the music stopped and the news were back. Nat raised the volume. The German guy listed traffic for all the different Autobahn routes and Natasha and Bucky listened carefully. When it was over, they both looked almost the same, disappointed.  
“We might not reach Augsburg tonight. But we’ll go as far as we can and just wait until the thunder and the rain are over”, she decided and Steve watched her from the side. _Was that part of her plan? Did she even have a plan besides the one they all followed?_ His fingers pulled into fists. How was he supposed to get them all out of this if the situation was getting more complex by the minute and people just kept crucial information to themselves!?  
“Maybe we should inform Lomawu”, Sam pointed out, holding up the little silver device.  
“Where did you get that?”, Barnes suddenly rushed and reached out to snatch it right out of Sam’s hand.  
“Hey! That’s our backup call right there, so…”  
But the unwavering brunet had already opened his window and thrown the little bead towards another car, it stuck there, the little green blinking disappearing in the stormy night. Steve turned around in his seat, willing to take control of the situation, but Sam was faster.  
“What the hell, man!? T’Challa’s secret service gave this to us for safety!”  
Sam was annoyed and not afraid to finally show it. All the frustration of the last days poured into his words. Bucky just huffed.  
“There is no safety with Hydra sniffin’ around for ya. The more strings ya cut, the more likely it is you’ll survive. No wonder they knew your location.”  
Maybe he was right, Steve thought. Bucky always knew what he was doing, before everything. He knew Hydra. And no matter how stupid the act seemed to be, it meant that he had decided to protect them, everyone in this car. _Maybe Bucky had been wrong, but what if he was right?_

The news speaker once again interrupted the scene.  
_“Nun zu den aktuellesten Informationen zum gestrigen Mordfall in Köln. Gerade veröffentlichte der Polizeisprecher des Hauptpräsidiums Köln Details um den Mord in der Engelsstraße. Eine Leiche wurde unter einem Auto im Innenhof gefunden, der Fahrer befindet sich in Untersuchungshaft. Spezialisten gehen jedoch davon aus, dass der Mord mit dem Auftauchen von Captain America sowie den vorherigen Geschehnissen in Paris und Brüssel verbunden werden kann. Es ist 21:32 Uhr.”_  
“What did they say?”  
Natasha looked worried and Steve was sure he hadn’t understood the basic message of the news although he’d been under the impression that his German wasn’t _that_ bad. Natasha translated for the others.  
“They found a body in Cologne. Under the other car in the parking lots. They think it was us and link it to Paris and Brussels.”  
Steve’s mind replayed the events of the night before. The murder had been so close.  
Sam, however, turned to Bucky right away. His voice sounded almost like a growl by now.  
“Anything you wanna tell us? Now would be the time.”  
“I didn’t kill anybody in Cologne.”  
“Oh yeah? You sure were in the mood. Steve didn’t look so happy with all that metal around his neck. Who was the guy under the car?”  
Bucky growled back, body all tense.  
“I don’t know.”  
“Guys, keep it down“, Natasha warned.  
“I said I didn’t kill anybody.“  
“Why would I believe that?“  
“Guys, I’ll stop the car!“

Thunder struck again and this time, it made the entire air vibrate. Steve felt like the air was charged with electricity. Light and darkness took turns. It sounded like someone was panting.  
But then, there was a worrisome and eerie silence. All of the sudden, something hit the back of his seat. Bucky, no, the Soldier, held his metal hand over Sam’s mouth. Sam hit everything around him. Coldness was all the Soviet’s eyes showed. His other hand reached for something down his leg. Where his handgun was. _Please, God. Not again._  
“Bucky, stop!“, Steve called out. He already loosened his seatbelt and tried to reach back.  
This time, it was him delivering a punch right into the face of the other. It loosened the Soldier’s grip on Sam. A Sam who punched back. A knife whirled around, slashing through seats and clothes. The Winter Soldier. Steve was holding him down but received a cut on his arm. Nat yelled lost words. Suddenly, Sam managed to get Bucky into a chokehold. The soldier resisted. _Three seconds._ He should be back to his senses by now, right? Could they snap him out of it by choking him? _Six seconds._  
“Sam, let go“, Steve ordered when Bucky whined, his body slowing down. But Sam didn’t. _Eight._ Bucky had already passing out. _Enough!_  
“Steve?“, Natasha asked.  
“Sam“, Steve warned, more authority in his voice. The two men battled each other with looks, but Sam obeyed. _Twelve._ Finally. He released Bucky and the latter slumped into his seat. Steve sent Sam a sharp glare that was returned with a very pointed eyebrow.  
It took the brunette a few seconds until his eyes fluttered back open. The murderous stare disappeared and Steve sighed heavily. _Let’s not repeat that. Ever._  
“Ты в порядке?“ Natasha’s voice was soft now, full of gentleness. _Are you alright?_  
“да.“ _Yes._ The reply sounded much throatier than his normal voice.  
“Boys, I know this weather’s perfect for scary stories, but let’s keep it down to what we’ve already seen, okay? We don’t need any more quarreling. Save it for Hydra.“  
Sam raised his hands defensively, but his eyes never the gun he’d placed next to his leg. For next time. Whenever that was.  
“You don’t need to tell _me_ that.“  
“I’m talking to everyone.“  
“I didn’t kill in Cologne. It’s psychological warfare“, Bucky mumbled and Steve was surprised he was still talking at all. The Soviet assassin frowned like these were memories not worthy of being remembered, “It’s what she does. You win a battle fastest if you can make sure your enemy never shows up in the first place. She must’ve been there the whole time, watching us. Letting us know we’re not safe anywhere…“, his voice trailed off.  
A shiver ran down Steve’s spine. It worked, he couldn’t deny that. Almost immediately, his eyes flickered back and forth through the wet glass in front of him, as if he was gonna spot the Remnant’s shape in the next car. Or on one of the bridges going over the Autobahn. _Was she here?_ He pushed it away, telling himself how impossible it was for the Remnant to attack them right now, to even find them here, in the darkness somewhere on the most high-speed streets in Germany. But the uncertainty lingered. _Was it really impossible?_

A bone-shaking jolt threw Steve against Natasha. The car roared, it screamed as the burst echoed through its inside. It crashed through the guardrails, tore through bushes until reaching the trees. Glass burst, Buck’s arm hit windows and metal alike. Sam’s head collided with something hard. He lost consciousness. Natasha was screaming. Steve wrapped around her, protecting her body from the impact when the car smashed into a tree.  
It stood, still thrumming with thunderous noise. All Steve could hear was his blood rushing in his head as the stitches on his ear were ripped open. _The Remnant. Crap. She’s here._  
Bucky steadied the Skorpion in his hand, his eyes analyzing the entire surrounding area.  
“Stay down“, he ordered darkly.  
“Do you see her?“  
No reply came, Bucky was silent as he watched all the cars that passed the destroyed side planks. He slowly stepped out although the worry in Steve’s eyes told him not to, Natasha still in his arms.  
Bucky walked around the vehicle, gun raised and ready, his steps exactly like those of a hunting cat, careful, slow, ready.  
Steve noticed how heavy he himself was breathing and how his blood dripped onto Natasha’s neck. She’d passed out from the impact despite being buried safely in his arms, but her eyes already fluttered back open already and she sniffed. Blood ran out her nose.  
“Hey“, Steve whispered and put a finger to his lips. _Be quiet._ She nodded.  
“Sniper?“, all she could manage was a croaked whisper anyway.

Right then, Buck waved in front of their window, calling them to step out of the car and to follow him. Untangling Steve from Natasha was hard, he was a giant perched between her body and the steering wheel, his arm somehow going through the steering wheel and ripping it out while also wrapping around her neck. Steve blushed a little when she tried to get her leg free, but kicked his supporting foot so that he crashed into her completely. She just let out a groan at the sudden weight.  
Bucky just rolled his eyes when he had to pull both of them through the deranged door.  
“Look at this“, he motioned at the wheel where the front right tire should’ve been. The flashlight showed the bare wheel that was only covered by scraps of rubber.  
“The tire burst, but there are no bullet marks anywhere.“  
“So, no sniper. I mean, it makes sense, it’s way too dark for that.“ Steve looked relieved, but then he saw the expression on Bucky’s face. He was choosing his words carefully.  
“I can work in this light. So can she“, he paused and Steve couldn’t help but shiver a little. Bucky had always been a great sniper, but the way he stated his abilities - it made him think of Hydra, of Zola and to what ends they had gone to create perfect assassins, killers. Plus, he had no idea how to stop them, especially not now, with their car trashed. Steve tried to keep it all in, but the burden was growing heavier with each step.  
“Our tire was sabotaged before we even got into the car to run from the CIA. It wasn’t them. It was her. The Remnant.“ He looked up, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Like I said, psychological warfare. She’s professional, she knows what she’s doing. Tasha, help me wipe the car. Get rid of all traces. We’ll have to disappear as fast as possible.“

* * *

 _ **London**_  
Janet rushed upwards, her heart pounding fast. _It was all a dream, just a dream,_ she thought while trying to calm herself. It always happened, every time she was too stressed. Now was just another of these phases where she didn’t get enough sleep because work was overly demanding and haunted her in her dreams. This time, the office had been under attack by a faceless shooter. Nothing she hadn’t seen in her nightmares before.  
Janet shook herself, quietly pressing a kiss to her still sleeping husband’s forehead - to which he replied with an incomprehensible mumble. She went to the kitchen of her small and neatly organized apartment to get a coffee. It didn’t let her go, that they hadn’t been able to identify the person who had attacked Steve Rogers in Cologne. That there were no traces they could use and that this obviously high-skill fighter had disappeared right then. She’d done some research when she came home last night, mainly because her unit had been fixed on Rogers instead of the attacker and Henderson had a feeling that there was more behind the whole case.  
But her search had been short and useless. Her tiredness had overwhelmed her and she had been lucky that she still made it to bed. 

Janet returned to the office quickly after that, not even bothering to have a proper breakfast. She ate on the way. As soon as she saw Neesa, looking fresh as ever, but with a frown that expressed something entirely else, Janet was very grateful for the scones she’d had on the go. Whatever it was, taking bad news on an empty stomach was the worst you could do.  
“What did he do?“, she asked her assistant.  
“It wasn’t Whittaker. It’s our team securing intel in the house Rogers and Wilson stayed in.“  
“Cologne. What happened?“  
Neesa looked at her with an expression Janet had seen before. _Sadly._  
“It was an accident. We sent in four, and all four of them are dead now.“  
“No.“  
“No one checked into their server since yesterday. Last night, we didn’t receive any of the obligatory updates and when we sent someone in, all four agents were found dead. No signs of a struggle, but no clear lab results yet either.“  
“Shit.“  
“You could say that.“  
Henderson sighed, her thoughts were circling again, even wilder than in the morning.  
“An accident. Do you really believe that?“  
“That’s the police’s assessment.“  
Yeah, that wasn’t enough to convince Janet. This wasn’t a coincidence, four corpses in the house Rogers and Wilson had slept in a night before, where the CIA had almost caught them. _Could it have been Rogers himself? Would he kill CIA agents?_ He wasn’t _that_ reckless.

Suddenly, her watch vibrated softly. She typed in her password to see she’d received a notification.  
It was from the special agent dispatched to Cologne, the one who had found his colleagues dead. A new entry in the team’s classified case file. It seems like the apartment belongs to Natasha Romanoff. Henderson closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. _Bloody hell. So the Black Widow was really going around to kill their agents one by one._ A pattern? None. After London and Miami, she’d added Cologne to the list. Was she trying to protect Rogers and Wilson from them?  
Speculation over speculation crashed through Janet’s head, leaving her with a burning headache. The Black Widow. She’d stolen their documents, their money, killed a number of their agents and followed them. _What was her ultimate goal?_

As soon as Janet entered the big office that was quieter than usual, she looked up to see a dark-haired agent on the right, tears in his eyes. On the other side, crumpled into an office chair, a woman with balled fists. They’d lost parts of their families today.  
She wouldn’t just let this happen and forget what it meant. Janet felt with her team. She’d react. Even if the world said it was an accident, she’d know better.  
“I’m sorry for what happened today, team. We lost agents. We lost family members. But we won’t let that fall behind, we’ll keep them with us, even in these times where we can’t say what will happen next. But you all know Natasha Romanoff; Russian spy, not afraid to leave bodies behind. We have a suspicion she killed our team in Cologne. My condolences to everyone who lost a companion today. So team, let’s engage for justice. Let’s make sure Romanoff won’t get away with this. That they”, she pointed at the empty office chairs, “didn’t die in vain.“  
Her coworkers nodded, faces grateful for the empathy building up in the room. After a few minutes, everyone was back to work while Janet watched Colin give her silent nod from the other side of the room. _Well done._ She sighed. This mission was gonna be her end. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to sleep this night, with all the added stress straining her nerves.

Neesa came up to Janet, standing by her side to give her the news without everyone listening.  
“Police found the car Steve Rogers used to get away from Paris, Gare du Nord. You should take a look at this.“  
She unsuspiciously handed Janet a photo.  
Janet’s eyes went over it without emotion, but she wasn’t sure if she understood what Neesa wanted to tell her.  
“See the blood stains on the seat? Forensics also found napkins that were soaked with blood. Napkins from a café located at the station in Paris. Blood identifiable as Steve Rogers’ blood.“  
“But we had information confirming they didn’t suffer any injuries.“  
“Like I said, we should take a look at this. Maybe our base of intelligence isn’t quite as reliable as we thought.“


	11. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Vengeance by Zack Hemsey (plus three other songs, check out my playlist)

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _   
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

* * *

 

Steve and the others stomped through the darkness, keeping away from the Autobahn and sticking to the line of shrubs next to it. Of course, they were exposed, but Augsburg was just a little over 10 kilometers away. Luckily, Sam was fine and able to walk, so they didn’t have to carry him.  
But while they were not talking, paranoia grew with every car that passed, every car that could’ve been CIA or Hydra. Two cars had stopped already in emergency bays, offering a ride, but the four of them had just stayed away, not given in to the temptation. Maybe people were nicer here, Steve thought for a moment, but realized how much damage he’d left behind in Berlin and decided that every offer they denied meant a little more safety for himself. Hydra could come in any size and shape and a fight would crash them right now.  
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one exhausted. Nat started to limp, maybe the car crash had done more damage than they’d thought. Bucky supported her, an arm wrapped around her waist, but this was no solution. And this was all that stood between the world’s safety and a resurrected Zola. They’d need one hell of a plan. 

So, when the next car stopped to offer a ride, Steve wasn’t that fast in declining the opportunity _. Had there been a radio note about them yet? Would the CIA put an official warrant into public media?_ This was a gamble and Steve had no idea about the odds. His heart was beating fast when he stepped towards the car, watching the passenger’s window open. _They would’ve shot us already if they were CIA, right?_ But no shots were fired. A young man stuck his head out with a curious smile. Steve thanked T’Challa for his stealth uniform that was in dark blue. Nothing like the stars and stripes, fewer chances of being recognized.  
But as soon as they’d all climbed in, there was no chance of not being recognized anymore anyways. Nevertheless, the man didn’t mention it, just nodded and started driving after asking where they were headed. All Steve discerned in that stranger’s face was genuine concern.  
“Augsburg“, was the simple answer that the driver was not satisfied with.  
“Wohin nach Augsburg? Die Stadt ist nicht gerade klein.“  _(Where to in Augsburg? The city isn’t exactly small.)_  
Natasha, in the front seat, replied in German, and Steve let her handle this. In secret, he wondered, however, if this was the guy she’d talked to on the phone. If he and Bucky and Sam were being delivered now. If this was some kind of trick.  
“What are you doing, exactly?“, Bucky furrowed his brows when he’d finally found a halfway comfortable position. Steve was surprised he’d found a comfortable position at all, being squished between Sam and him. Bucky mustered him.  
“Saving time, saving strength. Look at Sam and Nat - they need to rest.“  
Bucky grunted.  
“We all need to rest.“ He mustered the man, who was checking the rearview mirror, smiling kindly. Bucky wondered if the blonde driver or if maybe there was the possibility that he actually hadn’t recog-  
“Thank you for what you did in Stuttgart. And New York, I guess. Never been there, but well. Thank you.“ Yeah no, Bucky hadn’t thought so.  
The man’s words had been directed at Steve and Natasha and surprised them both equally. Stuttgart. That had been a long time ago. The beginning. Their first mission together.  
“Yeah, I - uh. Thanks“, Steve whispered. This was strange. The man wasn’t an annoyed politician, or a pissed off Senator, throwing complaints and whiny profanities at him, just a civilian expressing his gratefulness, but Steve wasn’t sure how to deal with that.  
“But, uh, why? Why do you care for New York and-“  
“Many of our soldiers here in Augsburg come from New York.“  
“Are you part of the stationed US forces?“, Sam asked, because the man’s English sounded American, but one could definitely hear a hunch of German thrown in there. It wasn’t like Zola’s or Zemo’s German, though. It sounded nice.  
“No. Does it matter?“  
“Why are you thanking me then?“  
The man eyed him through the rearview mirror, probably astounded by this version of Captain America sitting in his car. _Not the wonderful war- hero anymore, huh? Great. Just another one to add to the long line of disappointed citizens. Bet he wants to take his_ thank you _back._  
“Because I see no one else doing it.“  
Steve swallowed. When had been the last time that someone noticed that he needed something, even if it was just a word? Peggy? No, Natasha, on the way to Belgium. _Maybe family wasn’t that far after all._ Bucky patted him on the shoulder.  
“Hey“, the man said, looking at the brunette, “sorry for what happened to you. Good thing you’re back.“  
“Thanks. It’s appreciated.“  
“Okay, we’re getting closer to the city. Are you visiting someone? Maybe some old fella in the barracks? I can drop you off there if you’d like that.“  
Steve hesitated but answered after a second, throat thick and voice clouded.  
“A friend of mine was from here. The barracks are fine, thank you.“

A few streets were closed, which led the driver to just drop the superheroes off in the center of the city. They thanked him and stood in the darkness, unsure whether to just head into one direction or maybe try to figure out a strategy first. Who knew if Hydra was awaiting them, who knew how many mercenaries they had positioned throughout the city.  
Of course, they had been supplied with directions, but to be honest, even with the yellow street lights, all streets pretty much looked the same. Asking pedestrians wasn’t really an option - no one was out at all, thanks to the rain and the storminess of this night.  
Nat looked pretty grateful for the jacket she’d grabbed in Cologne and Steve pulled the hood of his, no, Clint’s hoodie, up to cover his ears. It was easier to listen to the others with some protection from the wind. Bucky stood stiffly in his tactical gear, looking all Winter Soldier with his hair hanging down in wet strands. Sam, next to him, wore a jacket, but he just looked tired and completely done. At least his arm had stopped bleeding. Steve cursed. He shouldn’t have taken Sam on the mission, should’ve left him in Wakanda. As the leader, he was supposed to be responsible for them and now? He had no idea and no plan and every single one of them felt miserable. Except for Nat, maybe, who looked like she was intrigued by their upcoming invasion of military property during heavy rainfall. Steve furrowed his brows. Or was it something else she had in mind? There was no chance of reading her. At least nothing had happened in the car.  
They decided to start marching towards the big church placed on the wide plaza. This was a tourist attraction, so maybe they’d find a city map there.

Just then, something moved in the corner of Steve’s eye. He looked back, seeing only an empty street, but Bucky pointed to a roof. Someone was running up there and he followed right away.  
“Come on! We gotta catch this one“, he shouted and ran down a street.  
“Hold on! What if it’s a trap?“, Sam answered while ignoring the pain shooting through his limbs.  
“Of course it’s a trap. The question is who we’ll find. That’s why you brought your gun.“  
“Oh _great_. I remember now why I hated this guy.“  
They ran, through three streets and four lanes until even Steve was breathing heavier than usual and Bucky, who had climbed up to pursue that Hydra agent, came back, signaling that he’d lost the guy.

Looking a little hazy through the thick rain, another remnant of the past appeared in front of  
Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Sam. The former US army barracks. Several windows showed light, but those were the minority. Most people were asleep. Good. If Natasha was right about this building, that the US Forces had been released after decades of service and now, the old barracks built of red bricks were mostly inhabited by young civilians accepting the process of gentrification Augsburg went through. Some of the bigger barracks also provided office spaces to local businesses, but this was not an industrial area, therefore Steve hoped that his friends and he would stay unnoticed.  
However, Hydra was here, a fact proved by the lookout’s placed on the roofs in this area, so chances of a silent battle were low.

They walked closer to their destination, a house at the side of the street. A brewery inhabited the lower part of the building, but its gates were closed and several delivery vans parked in the street, blocking some of the sight on the main entrance. It was a strategic precaution, no question, it would provide Hydra’s agents with cover from gunfire and options for a surprise attack as soon as unwelcome visitors entered the street. But so far, everything was quiet.  
Steve’s eyes wandered around, analyzing the environment for their mission. Then, he looked at his friends - all of them exhausted but clenching their teeth bravely. He wished he didn’t have to take them through this, heck, he didn’t want to be here either, but they were running out of options and time. To find Zola, they’d have to invade Hydra and squeeze them for information. If they found Zola’s brain here, even better. Bucky seemed nervous, his eyes were switching back and forth constantly. In this light, Steve couldn’t say if he saw sweat on his friend’s features, or if that was just leftover rain. Bucky leaned against a wall, arm above his head. Was he alright? Steve was sure he would be. If not, well, they could use a post outside of the building who could warn them if Hydra called for backup.

“You all know what we’re here for. Dr. Vreis mentioned Hydra was gonna resurrect Zola. I have no idea how that works, but we should expect anything. If you see him, kill him.“ Steve noticed the look Bucky sent towards him, one with raised eyebrows, but the blonde continued.  
“Make sure not a single Hydra worm leaves this building. Kill them, if you have to. Don’t think about it. If they manage to get backup, we’re not gonna witness dawn.“ Sure, killing was not his style, but in this weak condition, they couldn’t afford an unnoticed person stabbing their backs. Also, this was Hydra. These people had chosen to be here, to destroy and to kill. They were Hydra cannon fodder and no mercy could save them. It hadn’t been any different in the past when the fighters surrounding Steve and Bucky were praised as the Howling Commandos.  
Natasha nodded.  
“Don’t think that’s gonna be an issue. Still have some scars from New Jersey that scream for payback. How do we get in?“  
That was gonna be hard. Either they could - Steve’s head whipped around. He mentioned for everyone to get into the shadows. He’d heard something. The blonde was hiding behind a van right now, keeping eye contact with Bucky across the street. Bucky pointed down and forward. Steve understood, kneeled down and checked out what moved behind the car. It was dark and with normal eyes, he wouldn’t have seen much at all. But thanks to Erskine, he spotted three pairs of feet. Quickly, he supplied Bucky with the number of opponents, then listened into the darkness.

All he heard was water hitting the ground in drops. It was running down his body, too, made him uncomfortable and added risk to the prospect of a fight. He hoped he wouldn’t slip too much.  
A mercenary walked past the van, his eyes suddenly turning towards Bucky. That moment, Steve grabbed the man, pulled him back and with a deep breath, pushed him into the ground. Blood mixed with rainwater and ran down the asphalt in thin streams. Bucky clenched his teeth on the other side, but Steve couldn’t figure out what was happening.  
The sound had alarmed the other Hydra guards and suddenly, shouts filled the air and one could hear steps everywhere.

After a few seconds, Steve was involved in close combat, just like all his friends. From the corner of his eye, he made sure no one was alone or outnumbered. His vigilant eyes didn’t notice the dark figure on the roof of the brewery, however. It stood unmoving, one with the night’s black mantle, eyes carefully studying the four intruders.  
When Natasha jumped behind an armed agent, she hit the sidewalk’s edge and twisted her ankle. She slipped and went behind a few boxes, out of Steve’s sight. He sent a look to Sam, who had his wings on. He constantly shielded himself from the bullets and handed out a beating with the metal appendages. The edge of those, matched with precision and some force, could definitely knock a guy out. Bucky was fighting near the opposite wall. He was surrounded by mercs, but he held one on the collar. Another one came from the side, but Bucky saw him. With his strong left first, he punched him into the dark. The other was still hanging helplessly and got thrown far away. The Hydra goon crashed into the gate of the brewery and Steve could see a dent along with a crack.

Steve himself found himself under attack. He paid for the few seconds he observed the others. One of the men swung around a knife, but Steve kicked his legs away. The man struck himself. Another tried to shoot him, but Steve moved fast. The agent with the gun hit a comrade, leaving Steve with less work. The blonde did a fast number of steps before knocking out the last two with a mean kick. The field was clearing. He rushed to Natasha, still on her back, almost killing Steve with her guns. Despite her injury, she was surrounded by bodies, more than one of them strangled. Blood was all over her figure and her straight hair looked straggly.

“She’s here“, Nat whispered and Steve realized only then that he had no idea what Bucky was doing. _Had she gotten to him again, finishing what she couldn’t in Wakanda?_  
As soon as his eyes landed on the metal arm, he was relieved. But the brunette didn’t look so good. Bucky’s eyes were red and he was breathing hard. Sam was looking at him, too, gun still in his hand. Steve could feel his heart beating fast.  
“Buck? You alright?“  
Bucky didn’t look up. Worry started to gnaw on Steve’s mind. _What if this was too much?_ Zola was here, or at least, that’s what they assumed. The same Zola who had experimented on Bucky. Sam’s words echoed in his mind, _He’ll need therapeutic sessions. A lot of them._  
Suddenly, the wind turned and a strange smell wafted through the air. Steve was on alert, expecting some serious poison. Hydra would do anything. Nat was back on her legs, Sam helped her, putting a stabilizing tape around her ankle. The two of them didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.  
But Steve did. It was a faint scent, but it was there. Chemical and becoming more pungent with every second, but whatever it was, Steve knew it couldn’t affect him or his best friend, at least not physically. Thanks to the Serum, they were immune to biochemicals.  
Bucky, however, seemed to move now, to grow even more agitated. He was scratching his wrist, over and over and his eyes widened. Steve couldn’t see any blue in the brunette’s eyes; his pupils were blown. _Oh crap. Was Hydra brewing up anything? What if it affected Bucky psychologically?_

Steve walked over to his friend, gently placing his hand on his shoulder. Bucky grabbed it immediately with his metal hand. He twisted it, applying pressure which pulled Steve closer and had him stumble to his knees. Bucky towered over him, grimly watching the blonde’s shock.  
After a second, he released Steve’s hand, eyes widening when he escaped the haze of his mind. When he spoke, his voice sounded foreign. It was rougher than ever and had a lilt that Steve had never heard before.  
“Give me orders. I can’t - just to be on the safe side.“ _Just so I won’t kill you._  
Shivers claimed Steve’s skin, suddenly he felt the lingering doom that the presence of Hydra implied. He needed to protect his friends, or they’d all go down, probably even by the hand of the brunette. Bucky was in no way stable, he shouldn’t be here at all; Steve had actually done Hydra a favor by bringing him right to their doorstep.  
“Protect us, kill Hydra.“  
Guilt crept over the blonde like a shadow. If something happened, if people died, it would all be his fault. Maybe that had been what Zola meant in New Jersey, Steve dying had been a metaphor. To save Bucky meant losing the world. He’d be running forever, he would have lost everything else. _The man who sacrificed everything._  
Steve’s fists balled, but he lifted his eyes now, looking at his friend. He couldn’t just abandon him. Not even if it cost everything else. Bucky was all he had.  
“This was just distraction. We’ll go in. If Zola’s really in here, we can end Hydra today. Cut the brain off and they can grow all the heads they want; it will still be over. That’s a chance we can’t ignore. We’ll need to split up, though, to be faster.“

His gaze fell onto Natasha, who leaned against a wall, staring into the darkness they were about to enter. Another person who probably shouldn’t be here. _I have them. I will deliver._ Maybe this was it, who knew? Would she really make deals with Hydra? No. But was she really free of Hydra’s influence? Or was she just pretending? Steve knew she’d gone through brainwashing as well. He’d definitely keep an eye on her. That would mean leaving Bucky with Sam. For a moment, Steve tried to count all the reasons why he couldn’t do that. Because Sam was ready to hurt Bucky. He was way too fast. Too weak to hold Bucky down.  
But then, Steve realized that he himself wouldn’t be able to do these things at all. Sam had told him that. _You’re reckless when it comes to Bucky. I can’t have you dying on me again._

The decision on how to split up was taken out of Steve’s hands when another house’s door opened and new agents approached with their guns set on their group. Natasha jumped into the fight and Steve right after her. Together, they sent a metal trash container rolling into the enemy. In the meantime, Sam noticed Bucky was rushing over to the big brewery gate, climbing over it swiftly. He quickly set his mind on following the brunette into the hellhole that was supposed to be a Hydra facility.

Sam had seen the silent plea Steve’s eyes had transmitted to him when he started to run after Natasha. _Take care of him._ And Sam would, he promised to himself. He clambered up the gate of the brewery, but his body was tired. It was pleading for a pause. His arm was burning and fresh blood ripped open the half healed cut from hours ago. Sam could feel nausea pooling inside of him again. Visibly struggling, he realized how physically superior Steve and Bucky were to him. If Hydra messed with Barnes again, turning him into a brainwashed killer, Sam would pay with his life trying to stop him. Sam cursed at that prospect. He wasn’t ready to die, not here, not by Hydra. He’d promised Clint to watch his _“grand Disney Movie Collection“_ first thing when they’d be free to go home. But they’d have to get through this first.  
Sam wondered if the scent Steve had smelled really was something to worry about. He didn’t smell anything. _Did Bucky? Was it a weapon Hydra aimed at him on purpose?_ Sam followed the brunette around, he’d taken a secure path. Bucky was peeking around a corner and now turned towards Sam with a scowl.  
“What do you think you’re doing here, birdbrain?“  
“Having your back, Mr. I’m-fine-on-my-own.“  
Bucky snorted, but let him. _Jerk_.  
Sam wondered if this was what Barnes had been like before the war. The two men were quiet and slipped through a door that led them into a brewery. Big containers stood across the warehouse-like hall, storing beer. Hiding places, advantage positions. Luckily for them, the hall seemed empty and they could move around in there. On the other end, the gate to the outside was visible; the two of them could’ve gone in through there as well. A second escape route. Sam’s thoughts were still swirling around, he wasn’t sure what to expect from inside the building, but he noticed how agitated Bucky seemed to be, constantly looking at his wrist as if he was missing something there. His blown pupils and the way his metal fingers curled and uncurled weren’t reassuring. Sam had a suspicion.  
“What was Steve talking about? You smell it too, don’t you?“

There was a moment of silence before Bucky stopped walking, right in front of a door that had a small glass insert to see through. Suddenly, the brunette pulled Sam down, on high alert, and the Falcon could feel his heart pounding. They sat crouched against a wall, waiting for inside patrols to pass by the door.  
“Benzodiazepine.“  
“You’re not serious. Why would they-?“  
Bucky didn’t answer that and Sam, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that he’d never really left his counseling office, realized that these people he was surrounded with all needed more than just a friend - their lives were the biggest messes he’d ever seen and still, they managed to keep their heads above the roaring waves. _But did they really?_

Slowly, his eyes focused on Barnes, who only returned an icy glance. His body was tense, seemed ready for an outburst of energy, but the assassin moved with extreme control, like he was slipping into a succession of movements and settings his body was trained for. They still sat against the stone wall. Sam’s mind exploded with fear when the metal arm pulled a gun out. To his surprise, it was handed to him.  
“Don’t need it“, Bucky rasped, but Sam didn’t know if he could believe that. If his suspicions were right, he’d stand abandoned in that facility in a few minutes.  
Barnes’ wrist was red from all the scratching, proving the credibility of the pararescue’s theory. The Soldier’s leg twitched, for a second and very rapidly, he stood up, opening the door for them both to descend the stairs.  
Sam understood the signs, a suspicion formed, based on blood analysis results and old Russian files in Romanoff’s shaky hands. _Barnes was on withdrawal._  Benzodiazepine was highly addictive, he’d seen it with some of his army buddies, even Riley had struggled with it when officials had decided that extreme measures had to be taken. Sam was pretty sure Hydra didn’t care for the recommended three-month limitation on the drug. It was odorless, but if Hydra had managed to condition Bucky to scents...  
So, he’d have to expect anything. Drug addicts did crazy things. Oh well, this was gonna be fun.

Sam took the stairs and reached the hallway behind the door. It was long, wide enough for the two men to walk beside each other, and lit by tubes emitting a cold, blueish-white light. Sam was cold. Bucky started walking and looked at the different cards that stuck to the doors as information plates. Not a word was spoken and the whole place felt eerie. Sam hated this kind of silence, he’d actually prefer the rumbling of the brewery hall from before, even if it meant not hearing every footstep. Now, he was worried about who would hear his footsteps.  
Then, Bucky just chose one door on the right and walked in, not caring much about Sam. Was this still Barnes? Or the Winter Soldier already? Or even worse, something in between?

Sam followed him into the room that stood empty. Empty in terms of Hydra personnel. While the left side wall held several cabinets and even a sink, the right side was occupied by desks and a few monitors above them. A screensaver ran through there and Sam decided to take a look at the loads of papers and files hoarded on the wooden desks. Maybe they’d actually find some useful information in here. Sam did an inner fist bump at how messy Hydra was in here, how they’d just left everything on the tables, even confidential materials. How arrogant, he thought. They didn’t even think anyone would ever get in here.  
“They should’ve invested in a folder system, don’t you think?“, Sam turned towards Bucky, who was still going through the cabinets. Suddenly, Sam froze. _What was he doing!?_  
“Barnes…“, Sam said, a warning, hopefully, or a stop sign.

The Soldier stood before a safe, typing in a code. The safe opened. The Asset pulled out a syringe full of liquid. The little cap was in between his teeth and his metal hand pulled his sleeve up. _Oh, come on!_   _You gotta be kidding me. This is bullshit._  
“Barnes, what is in that syringe?“  
The brunette looked up, slowly, and completely calm. No signs of aggression, unlike Sam knew from addicts mentally preparing to fight for their drug. But this wasn’t just an addict, this was one who knew he’d win this fight. Sam would have to be extremely smart about this.  
“A benzodiazepine enhancement.“  
_Shit._  Sam had expected it and sighed deeply. He was too tired to start an inner rant for being so stupid, not noticing the signs earlier, for all this crap he could’ve stopped. He mustered Barnes, who stood straight in this silence like it was his natural habitat. He knew why the assassin was so calm about it; because Sam didn’t pose a serious threat to him. He stood no chance against the man who could tap into the raw power the Winter Soldier possessed at any moment.  
“Put it away. I didn’t sign up for this. I thought we were done doing what Hydra wants.“  
“I need it, Sam. My brain is exploding without it.“

Sam considered all the steps he usually used with drug addicts. None of them would work. Not with stupid Bucky Barnes. Not with even-more-stupid Steven Rogers, whose only drug was stupid Bucky Barnes. Sam groaned. Suddenly, a thought shot through his mind.  
“You knew this stuff was here, prepped for you, didn’t you!? And you told us to come here instead of following the trail we had, just so you could have your damn shot!“  
“You didn’t have a trail.“  
While Sam was running hot with his words, Barnes still leaned against the cabinets, calm and peaceful, which fueled the rage in Sam even more. Bucky was still Hydra’s puppet. And he couldn’t even see it.  
“We could’ve worked one out! But instead, you told us Zola was here. We - Steve trusted you!“  
“Maybe you should go. Find Zola, kill him, you heard Steve. I didn’t lie about this stuff, Hydra is stationed here and judging by how big their unit is, I’m sure you’ll find direct ties to Zola at least. Might even come up with a… meet and greet.“  
“ _I’m_ not going anywhere. Not as long as I can prevent you from getting high off that potion.“  
“Face it, Sam, you can’t. I’m no hero, no matter how much you’d hope for…“  
“No, you aren’t.“ Sam’s fingers had touched his gun. He’d do it. One, two, three. One shot. Sam’s ears were ringing. The repel’s familiar aching crawled through his arm. Sam looked up. Barnes still stood, a gun casing rolled over the floor. The metal hand had shielded the bullet off. The face behind the hand looked hard like stone.  
And that was when it started, the real fight, Sam against the Winter Soldier. The gun shot had only been the beginning, a risk, and a loss.

Now, the Asset broke the surface, reappeared, right in front of Sam, right around his throat. He could feel the brunette vibrating with strength. His feet moved faster than Sam’s, just like his fists. Sam was bleeding, his hip crashed into a desk’s edge. _Dammit._  
He couldn’t breathe for a second, then it felt like he was on fire. The Winter Soldier had his throat. Sam felt his calm breath against his face. He pressed his eyes shut. And got punished in an instant. Hard shove against a door. Sam gasped for air, it hurt, his back, his head, everything. The wings on his back were getting heavier. But the Winter Soldier was merciless. Shook him. Another shove, same door. _He’d die._ Sam knew it. No one really survived the Winter Soldier. Only Steve would. A deep punch into his stomach. Sam’s eyes were watering.  
The Soldier gazed at him harshly, ice in his gaze. He was a predator playing with his kill. A third shove, more powerful and Sam screamed. The door behind him flew open, he fell backwards, needed air, but gained two steps of distance to the metal arm. Sam huffed, couldn’t escape, but he’d-  
The Asset before him grabbed his own ears, panic in his eyes, sending looks all through the room. It took only seconds until the brunette howled, pain evident. _What the hell-?_  
“Stop! Stop! Stop it!“  
A yelp came from his throat. Sam sat up, could find air again, he sent the flashing lights before his eyes away. His vision was clearing. But his hearing? Over and over, a strangled mewl sounded from Bucky’s throat, he was in pain. His body was twisting and turning. Not the Winter Soldier.  
“Barnes, are you - tell me what’s happening!“ Protect us, Steve had told Bucky. Well, that plan had failed. More like _Protect Bucky._  
“Are you alright?“  
“It’s- I- ugh, I can’t… think, something is buzzing in my head.“  
_Buzzing? Like, flies, bees, nasty little insects? Or like electricity? Buzzing can’t be good._  
“Is it your arm, does it - can it give you electric impulses or something? Can they steer you remotely?“  
“What is wrong with you, birdbrain!? I’m not a… a freakin’ robot!“  
Sam huffed.  
“What’s wrong, my ass. I’m no robot either; I’m dangerously exhausted, on what feels like the edge of starving and…“  
Bucky whimpered.  
“S-ssam…make it go away! I can’t-“  
Sam didn’t understand, but the assassin’s distress seemed to get worse. Was he in pain? The assassin was writhing on the ground. The metal arm scratched over the cement floor and Sam could’ve killed Bucky for that sound alone. Suddenly, Bucky’s hands smeared blood over his face. He was bleeding! Where did that blood com-? Bucky screamed.  
“Barnes! Make what go away?“  
“The…noise! S’ so shrill!“  
Bucky’s voice faded and suddenly, he just dropped. Until now, Sam hadn’t dared to come closer to the man, but he rushed to his side now. Unconscious. Blood ran over Barnes’ neck. It came from his ears. But he had a pulse, that was good. Just unconscious. Sam’s heart was pounding from all the shock, even from the fight. Blood rushed through his head, he felt dizzy for a second. Noise? Sam hadn’t heard a peep. This was a new problem and it felt like a slap in the face. Because Sam had no idea what to do.  
_Who had knocked Barnes out? Without even touching him? Was there even anything he could do for him right now?_  
Sam looked back to the room. Nothing. It was empty. Dark. Maybe he should check out the room again. Search the desks for intel. And hide that stupid syringe. At least Bucky hadn’t injected it yet. Who knew what Hydra had brewed together? They wanted the Winter Soldier back, that was for sure.

Sam just wanted to walk towards that door when it was closed by the other side. A second later, the lights were switched on - electricity buzzed through the air. Sam quickly jumped around.  
“Good evening, Mr. Wilson“, a male voice stated from further in the room. German accent, it sounded terribly stereotypical. Like in old war movies. _Zola?_ A bigger table stood there, with a screen showing a face.  
“What an honor to finally meet you in person.“ Zola. Sam stepped a little closer, holding onto something. The weight of his wings almost pulled him down. His legs felt shaky. But now, he could see the old fashioned computers standing in the back.  
“What did you do to him!? He’s bleeding!“  
“Sergeant Barnes will be fine soon. Yet you won’t be here to witness that. But I ought to thank you for taking so much care of my masterpiece.“  
“You won’t take him back. I won’t let you.“  
“Ah. I see you haven’t changed. But you also could not prevent Riley’s death, now could you?“  
Sam couldn’t move. Riley? No one knew about Riley. People didn’t remember the fallen soldiers. Not Riley. Negligence and disregard of the fallen. The burden every veteran carried.  
“Although you had promised to ever stand beside him. Now, you are afraid it will all happen again. Steven Rogers will die, Mr. Wilson.“  
“Maybe. But you won’t come alive ever again.“ Sam bit his teeth. The pain was still shooting through his muscles, now more than before with the adrenaline fading. He just wanted to sit down.  
“Oh, but you can’t hold me down. We’re already in the final stage, Mr. Wilson. At last, the museums will provide the real cornerstone of history. Hydra will find new ways, we always have. Riley was just a tiny part of the big puzzle, he died-“  
“Stop talking about him like that! You don’t know anything about his death!“  
“Ah, Mr. Wilson. _Do you?_ “  
Sam almost staggered backwards at the accusation. The words just kept repeating in his head. Do you? _Don’t listen to him. I knew Riley. He was one of the good guys and definitely not Hydra. He died a few meters away from me. There was nothing I could do to save him._

A series of images showed up on the screen, the day their rescue squadron had pulled up the tents to hide in the desert of Afghanistan for a week. A special commando to apprehend Khalid Khandil, hiding somewhere with his pockets full of RPGs. The photo had been taken from closer than Sam liked. _Who-?_ A photo of him and Riley cleaning their wings, Sam remembered that. The day they’d exchanged their dog tags. More photos, too close. _A mole!?_  
“Your superior, Col. Walker insisted on keeping confidential reports from us, quite invaluable intelligence. We could not let him reach Khandil. He needed a warning, to remember where his loyalties lied. Immediate action was required. He favored Riley. We could not let him set foot on the ground again.“  
“You’re full of bullshit. He was killed in action. I saw him crash, saw him fall and watched him wind up dead. Had he not been dead at impact, the fall would’ve snapped his neck.“  
“Yet you never noticed the delicate bullet wound between his ribs. A shot of ultimate precision, only possible with a skill mastered over years, more likely decades. It’s unique. Look into the file.“  
Sam gasped when a photo appeared on the second side of the file that was on the desk before him, grainy and not sharp at all, but clearly showing a person with a long rifle hiding. A file about Riley. With all his data.  
“Bullshit. My heat signals would’ve…”  
“Do they now?“ Zola’s voice echoed through the room.

At first, Sam wasn’t sure that was supposed to mean. His heat monitors worked fine…? Then he realized. _Bucky_. He turned around so fast he almost fell. But Bucky was still passed out. Someone was bent over him, however, working on the metal arm’s plates. Sam’s eyes widened, he grabbed his gun. Ice-cold shock. It was gone. _The knife!_ He grabbed air. Gone too. _What the-?_ He was unarmed. _Harmless_. _Shit_. _What do I do?_  
The person stood up, eyes flicking towards Sam. He realized then how much this one looked like Bucky himself. _The Remnant._ Steve had mentioned it. _Crap_. As soon as he began to move, she moved, fast, something shiny moving with her. It flew, then, digging right into Sam’s shoulder. A knife. _His own knife._ Something banged against a door, but Sam couldn’t think. His brain was clouded with all the pain. He couldn’t use the wings. It would tear him apart.

The Remnant grabbed Bucky under the arms, just dragging him with her. _No!_ Sam swore to himself he wouldn’t let her take him. They would never get the Winter Soldier again. Sam staggered over to them, as fast as he could. He winced with every step, could feel the sweat running over his body, joined by burning blood. He’d stop the Remnant. Protect Bucky. The least he could do.  
More pounding came from the door. _Shit. If more Hydra guys get in here… I need to bring him to safety._ But the door was still closed. That meant she wouldn’t get out either, right? Sam looked around. He grabbed a fire extinguisher with his good left arm. Maybe he could- throw it? No chance. His arm protested immediately. Sam rolled it, with more force than he could sacrifice. He heard something crack, but it was the door.  
The Remnant stopped, ignoring the makeshift weapon. Suddenly, she reached down, where something glinted. _The syringe!_ She emptied it into Bucky’s veins and threw it away. Just then, the door gave in with a mighty burst. With a powerful jump, she reached into the ceiling and pulled herself up, disappearing through a skylight. Sam gasped, he’d - Steve and Nat ran in, Sam just pointed at the ceiling and his vision went dark. Soft arms caught him before he could crash into the floor.

Steve had followed Natasha and together, they’d massacred the hordes of Hydra getting in their way. After the fifth room, finally, they’d found an official guy, who’d started shaking when Steve had grabbed his collar and pulled him into the hallway, the graveyard of his commando. The Black Widow had taken over then, purring torture of the mind into his ear, very sweetly, while tying him to a chair. Steve held it, upside down, they simply didn’t have the time for half-assed threats this time. Natasha promised the super soldier would let the chair fall, but the man behaved.  
It took a minute until his head turned red and heavy and another until he was close to suffocating, but until then, they had every piece of information they needed. Zola was in Munich, there wasn’t much intel on that, but they’d been instructed to build a trap for the Winter Soldier and even Mr. Wilson. The grand plan was to basically kill Steve Rogers at sight. Natasha hit Steve’s arm when the man started coughing and the chair fell. A penetrating crack sounded at the impact; the wooden chair remained completely intact. Steve sent the Russian a dirty look, she was enjoying this too much. They ran after that, following the noise and arriving just in time to rush after the Remnant.

Steve’s shoulders were almost too wide to fit through the narrow skylight. He caught the foot that kicked at him and pulled the Remnant towards him.  
She flew, wasn’t much heavier than Nat, but rolled forwards just to stem herself up on her hands and kick Steve in the ribs. He held on - even grabbed one of her knives while her fingers wandered over to his neck. He slashed her, once, twice. By now, he was working so fast, there was nothing else he saw, only her, the moves, the eyes. He cut her sleeve, right at the shoulder. The moon came through, sending a light upon the exposed skin. Steve gasped, he was thrown off. There was a mark on her shoulder, dark, burned flesh. An eagle, _the_ eagle. The SSR insignia. Letters underneath. _1946, M.P. Carter._ The Remnant angled her foot to kick his jaw and Steve blinked. She was strong and agile. Able to crack his bones.  
Now, she was running, over the roofs, Nat right after her. Rebecca would have to stop soon, the roof was endin- nevermind, she jumped right into the barrack apartments.  
“Nat! Stay behind!“, Steve yelled. It was a very quick decision, but the woman didn’t send him a kind look. She shook her head and prepared to jump after the assassin.  
“Stay behind!“, Steve repeated, more need in his voice now. He was the leader, he made the decisions and right now, he needed her with Sam and Bucky.  
“And what are you gonna do?“, she questioned. “Rollin’ over there, breaking your bones and hoping for Bucky 2.0 to listen to you? There’s no way you’re going alone.“  
With that, she turned around, determined and ready to push herself to her limits. Steve wondered whether this was part of her mysterious backstory deal. To be everywhere and relay intelligence back to whoever paid her. Steve clenched his fist. This was not the time for trust issues. _But what if he sent her back and she’d deliver Bucky? To Hydra? What if he took her with him and that was exactly when Hydra was gonna take him? Because there was no one to look after him right now._ Steve hated this. But he decided to stick with his plan. He grabbed her arm.  
“I mean it. Go back, take care of Sam and Bucky. You wouldn’t dare leave them without protection.“  
Natasha gave him a challenging look, one of those expressions Steve couldn’t read. Her face resembled a stone wall and her right eyebrow stood high above her eye. Steve’s heart pounded loudly and for a moment, he didn’t care about the Remnant getting away. More importantly, he needed to know if he could trust the Russian spy in front of him.  
“Are you sure that’s the right choice, Steve?“  
“Sometimes, you gotta make _a_ right choice, not _the_ right one.“  
“Fine, Rogers. Hurry up.“  
Steve nodded and took his chances by entering the building before him through the same window Rebecca had taken before him.

Steve carefully rolled to the side and came up to his feet. The Room around him was mockingly quiet, only the glass shards beneath his feet crunched a little.  
This time, unlike a few days ago, back in Cologne, where he just hadn’t known better, Steve had left all his weapons with the others. Rebecca wouldn’t be able to steal them this way. And when she’d try, Steve would turn it around and grab hers. He was prepared.

After a few seconds, however, Steve questioned himself for still standing in the room. She was probably gone, long gone even, if her mission was to kill Natasha. The super soldier was sure that if he had been a target, he’d be fighting for his life already.  
He remembered how Buck had explained how commands had to be obeyed. and how. He’d stated that deviations from the mission's objectives weren’t an option if Hydra had fiddled with your mind. Their assets were programmed that way, it was just how they functioned.  
So Steve dared to use the little flashlight on his wrist. The living room he stood in was silent and looked untouched. On the opposite side, he made out a door that probably led to another room, hopefully with unharmed and sleeping people. Next to it was another door with a little peephole. The door to the hallway. Steve tiptoed towards it. Locked from the inside.  
A new wave of adrenaline went through his tired body. She was still here. The blonde sent a rushed ray of light through the room, checking for movement, for any concerning detail he could’ve overseen before. _Nothing._  
Suddenly, something caught his attention. A pair of cat eyes glowed back at him in the corner of his eye. When a faint noise rose from one of the other rooms, Steve averted his eyes for a second. When he turned back, the cat was gone.

Air shifted around him. All of the sudden, something crashed into Steve. He huffed, losing all the air in his lungs. The force sent him backwards, right into a wall and against a light switch. The flashing brightness made his attacker stumble. He took advantage of it.  
Steve seized Rebecca by the arm. He applied more force than he thought necessary and pushed the limb behind her back. With another movement, she was sandwiched between his body and the wall. The young woman hissed at the impact. Steve knew she wasn’t hurt. She wore a damn tac suit. But he got her irritated. Was that good or bad?  
“Rebecca! Snap out of it!“, Steve yelled. “I know you don’t remember, but just listen, okay? Your brother is here, Bucky, and we need you to just hold still and look at him, that’s all.“  
She struggled and it took the super soldier a lot of self-restraint to not just punch her out of consciousness. Just to make sure she couldn’t do any more harm in the name of Hydra.  
“Rebecca. Your name. Do you recognize it?“  
She still tried to squirm out of his grasp, but Steve held her tight. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold her like this, though. He felt her strength, every muscle of her body was tense and full of power. He needed to be fast. Sending a quick prayer to the heavens, he continued trying to pull her back by calling to her memories.  
“Rebecca Barnes. Bucky is your brother. Do you remember your little sist…“  
He didn’t get any further. She headbutted him, hard. Steve’s nose cracked and he felt blood on his rough lips. Next, an elbow crashed into his exposed throat and breathing turned into a real struggle. He needed his hands to protect himself, he couldn’t hold her.  
“Stop it, just focus!“  
A glass vase hit his chest and shattered. A burning sensation almost overwhelmed him, with stinging cuts starting little fires on his skin. Steve couldn’t contain a rough groan. She kicked him, but the soldier held his fists up. He was fast enough to defend himself. The assassin twisted his wrist. The flashlight went straight into his eyes now. Steve struggled, tried to move his arm away. Suddenly, she let him have his way. He crashed his arm against the wall. It broke the flashlight. _Great_. Steve heard a click. She’d switched the light back off. He was blind in the darkness, unable to see anything thanks to the bright flares of light in his vision. It left him with his other senses. Steve hated it.

He smelled only sweat and blood and it was most likely his own. While he tried to stagger somewhere else, a thought crossed his mind. Maybe he could hide. It was dark, after all. So he decided to go into a crouch and find some sofa to take cover behind. Steve really hoped to escape Rebecca’s eyes. _Rebecca_. Still in her in a tac suit, brainwashed by Hydra, that was a concept Steve still couldn't grasp. Bucky, yes, he’d been a soldier, but her? Why her?  
Sweet Rebecca who loved to talk about having kids one day. Who read the newspapers to Grandma Barnes every morning. Who’d bake the best cranberry muffins he knew. Whose trade mark stance was with a baby cradled in her arms and a lullaby on her lips, unendingly gentle. _Was trying to kill him._  
Steve wasn’t sure where he was right now, but at least his eyes had recovered from that blinding reverb of light. Still, he couldn’t hear anything. Not even a breath. _Had she taken off? Had she considered him slow enough to not follow?_  
The blonde’s fingers touched something soft. The couch. A hiding pla- Suddenly, something dug into his throat. Right above the Adam’s apple. Steve gasped for air. His fingers shot up. It proved impossible to free his throat. A tight rope restricted it. Rope? It was a cable to press all his oxygen off. A cable, now an instrument of fate. Able to take his life.  
Rebecca stood behind the super soldier and dug her knee into his back, forcing him to arch his back and expose his throat even more. Steve knelt, grasping for any wisp of air he could reach. Whines escaped him. His body started to quiver. Rebecca was strong. Even when he tried to punch her, she just tightened to cable around his neck, kneed him in the back, eliciting groan after groan from the tall man. His eyes watered. He wondered how strong she really was, if she could take Bucky. But he wouldn’t come. Not to the rescue, not to watch. Steve just hoped the others would run. Would they be fine without him? Hopefully, Nat took care of them.

Steve couldn’t free himself from Rebecca’s merciless grasp. But it would be over in a few minutes, maybe only seconds. She wouldn’t give way to his pleading taps on her arm, a last attempt of communication.  
When his vision started to blur around the edges, his mind half-noticed her fingers tapping against his neck in an arrhythmic pattern, almost like a telegrapher’s tapping. He wasn’t sure if it was real. For a moment, Steve thought he got a little mouthful of air again.  
That’s when he noticed the soft material crumpled up in his cramping fists wasn’t the sofa. It was a curtain. Okay. Irrelevant now. Steve felt the energy leave his body like steam over boiling water. Images started to appear in front of his inner eye. _His Ma. Bucky. New York. Cabbage soup. Asthma attacks. The war. Bucky in Azzano, on the lab table. Steve pulling him out of that hellhole._  
Whether it was filled with tragic purpose or just a physical reaction to his memories Steve couldn’t tell. He thought he’d kneed there for an eternity, the cable around his neck a promise. The woman behind him a witness to Hydra’s cruelty. Steve had stopped struggling long ago.  
But then, it happened.  
Steve’s arm jerked forward at the memory of rescuing Bucky. When the image hit him again, he felt the strain of his best friend’s body in his arms. How he pulled him.  
The super soldier’s hearing was almost gone, but he heard a loud clattering. All the pressure was released from his neck. Was he dead? Something hit his head. He fell. Collapsed. Layers of soft curtains buried him. The world was dull and dark, but Steve was on the ground, gasping for air like a fish out of water. Like an asthmatic. That was exactly how it felt. Steve knew. How no matter how much you air you tried swallow, you could never fill your lungs with it. Like the cable was still there.  
Something happened behind him. Steve couldn’t see. Couldn’t turn around. He’d never felt this helpless. His sense of smell and taste returned. Blood was everywhere in his mouth. His tongue felt like a dead, flabby thing. Steve wanted to vomit, but he couldn’t. His hands went up, shaky like a grandfather’s, ridiculously slow in taking the loose cable off his shoulders completely.

Shots screamed through the air and Steve thought his ears were gonna burst. Would he go deaf? Disillusioned, maybe? He coughed blood. All he could do was wait.  
It took another eternity until hands touched Steve’s face. He must’ve faded in and out of consciousness because he was sweating and felt pain he hadn’t before. He flinched back, feeling how his body rebelled against him. The hands followed him.  
When Steve managed to open his crusty eyes, Natasha looked at him, desperately checking for his pulse. He tried to ask her where Rebecca went, if the Russian had gotten her, how the others were, but all he managed to produce was a pathetic croak. His teammate shushed him immediately, visibly relieved that he was alive and getting back to himself.  
“You’ll be fine. I got you, sweetstuff. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.“  
And with that, Steve took in another round of darkness. He didn’t notice when the redheaded spy returned together with a stocky Hydra operative to carry the super soldier out of the room that had become his very own trap.


	12. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Graven Images by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _   
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

Janet had waited for this opportunity. Ever since the examination team had sent her all the files and photos from that damned apartment in Cologne, the task force leader had been working on her own to find any clues. Well, together with her assistant Neesa. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing here. Four of her men had died in there, trying to understand what Romanoff and Rogers were up to, why the Russian was targeting CIA agents. Janet wasn’t just curious anymore, this investigation felt like a duty that had crossed the line to becoming a personal matter. In the past, a relocation would’ve hindered her from digging, but now the unit’s leader was clinging to these files she’d grabbed hastily before hailing a cab to the airport. Nothing would stop her from researching this case, even if her suspicions and results had to remain in her own head, to be treated with an exceptional level of confidentiality.  
And bingo, she’d been rewarded for her endurance. But, against her expectations, it hadn’t been the lab results that had supplied her with the answer to the mystery. The autopsy results were much more surprising and revealed very clearly that none of the four agents had died in the wake of an accident. That sounded really ridiculous now, actually. Janet jumped when she heard a sound from the door. Quickly, but not suspiciously fast, she shuffled her papers into a pile and hid them inside her jacket. She angled her arms close to her torso so everything would stay in place. If this was Colin or even Lomawu, she couldn’t risk anything.

But it was Neesa who stepped into the silent room, carrying two cappuccinos and a brown manila folder. Janet released a breath. She knew the importance of keeping this little investigation secret from her task force co-leader, but Neesa had been a major help and Janet wasn’t sure how to thank her for her support. Even if that was her job as an assistant.  
“Thanks“, she mumbled when Neesa put the cappuccino down and the assistant nodded, sending a quick look over the table. She smiled, “It took me an hour and three lies, but I copied our last mission files. Find anything new yet?“  
“I’m working on it. But I noticed something strange. I’ve never seen this before. Look, every corpse has an almost identical wound in the upper ribcage, right between two ribs. Very small hole, but if you stick something into the wound and follow the canal, you end up straight in the victim’s heart.”  
“That is strange”, Neesa agreed. “Have they checked tissue samples?”  
“They didn’t find anything Here comes the strangest thing: There is no bullet. Also, this isn’t your typical bullet wound.”  
She held up the photos, pointing out the little wounds in the pale flesh of the dead CIA agents. Neesa nodded.  
“Yeah, it’s smaller and there is no exit wound. But are there holes in the clothing?“  
“Yes.“  
“And in the windows?”  
“No. So we’re dealing with an attack from inside the room. Plus, I’m pretty sure these wounds weren’t caused by an ordinary firearm.“  
“Have they examined tissue samples?”  
“Tearing, but nothing else. No traces of toxins or any known substances. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, except for the hole.”  
Both women stood quietly for a moment, thinking about all the facts they had gathered so far. Neesa’s face lit up.  
“What about that attacker from the bridge in Cologne?“ She shuffled through her folder, searching for the photo on her mind that she knew had to be in here.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Look. On the back of the military agent who attacked Steve Rogers. That Hydra operative.”  
“You think he’s Hydra.”  
“Of course he’s Hydra. Who else wants Captain America’s head?”  
“We do? As far as I can remember, his head is pretty far up Ross’ list.”  
“Fine. Hydra or not, check the photo. On the back.”  
“Looks like a… dark stick.”  
“It’s a blowpipe. I built one myself when I visited a summer camp as a teenager. There are versions issued by foreign military units, but they’re not a common weapon for a reason. Shooters have to be very skilled to actually achieve precise hits. And even then, you can’t create as much force as a gun can.“  
“Precision. How precise can a skilled user be?“  
Neesa pointed at the photos of the autopsy report. “With a military blowpipe? As precise as a shot between the ribs and into the heart.“  
“Okay. So, if we assume, and it’s only a far-fetched assumption so far, that the unknown attacker, who we think belongs to Hydra, killed our four agents, the Black Widow would be off the hook. Great. We need more than just proof to actually have anyone listen to us.“  
“And we need to figure out the motives of the Hydra asset. Why would he kill our agents? If he wants Rogers, we’re after the same thing.“ Henderson nodded, walking back and forth as if that could her brain to work faster. Thankfully, no one would enter this level of the multistoried building that was only used by the owners on the first three levels. The CIA had occupied the fifth, so Neesa and her should remain unnoticed on the fourth.  
Suddenly a thought struck the woman who was sure that solving the riddle could include a promotion that would mean she could finally leave Colin Whittaker behind. He was no help. And, as always, he stood opposed to listening to her, seeing how she was so much younger and quieter than him.  
“What if Steve Rogers is just running for his own life? What if that fight on the bridge wasn’t the first time that Hydra soldier has attacked him? What if that is the reason that he resurfaced at all?“  
“That sounds legitimate. He was running in Paris.“  
“Exactly. Can you check if the asset was there? At the station, Gare du Nord?“ Neesa checked the filed reports.  
“There is not a single mention in the report or the communication transcripts, so I’m guessing no.“  
Henderson walked over to her assistant, examining the communications transcript. This was from before, when Colin had seized his opportunity and taken this mission from her.  
“Why is there a pause in communications?“  
“Where?“  
“Right here, the field agent asks for _Instructions for the local asset?_ and four minutes later, someone in the operations says _We located the Falcon’s phone._ Four minutes is a long pause. The instructions are missing.“  
“That means that either there was a disturbance in communications someone is trying to cover something up. It’s always one of the two, Janet, you know that.“  
“Okay, that means this really has to stay between us. Whoever is involved with this can’t find out. The transcript states that we had intel that Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson were gonna be there. Do we know anything more specific?“  
“Not really. The report says that there had been an anonymous informant who… well, informed us the night before.“  
“Anonymous means he wasn’t trying to blackmail us with that. Wow. I call that a wasted opportunity. That means the informant either wasn’t interested in money or just really couldn’t risk being exposed.“  
“But who would know that Rogers was going to be there? Even we didn’t have a clue about his whereabouts.“ Neesa scrunched her nose. The CIA knew a lot, but every underground search for Steve Rogers in the past six months had been without results.   
Janet tensed up. Steps were audible from the hallway and she stuffed all the photos, reports and transcripts into a folder as fast as she could. The door opened.

Mr. Lomawu stepped in, clad in a neat blue suit. His eyes fell onto the two agents, then on the empty hall. His smile turned into confusion.  
“Where did our office go all of the sudden?“  
He came closer, just close enough the notice the two folders on the table. Janet prayed he didn’t see anything suspicious. She grabbed her cappuccino that was still half-full.  
Neesa smiled back and pointed at the ceiling.  
“You’re on the wrong level. The office is on the five. We should all go there, actually. Hopefully, Whittaker has some good news for us.“  
“What were you two doing down here?“  
Janet and Neesa exchanged looks, both wrecking their minds for a plausible excuse.  
“That must’ve been intense if finding an answer is that hard. Forgot I asked“, he chuckled, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that much commitment this early in the morning.“  
The women almost simultaneously sent him a nervous smile and as soon as the lift stopped, seized their opportunity to escape and bring their prized files to safety. Work called and they soon found their way to avoid Mr. Lomawu for the most part, at least until the team briefing.

* * *

One shot. One bullet.  
Was all it took to drown the world in a deafening silence. Waves of inaudible roars brushed over everyone in the room. Everyone on the floor. The thud of a single body crushing, hitting the ground. The loudest sound of them all, realization. Not the shot. The shot came without any noise, drowned the world in thick, damp sullenness. But realization hit the team like thunder. The realization that, while they had done their best to follow orders, to protect the world, they themselves were exposed. And now, they paid, they sacrificed. Another agent.

Neesa opened the door to the hallway leading to the office, still talking to Colin, reminding him to share their new findings about the Remnant with Janet. As her assistant, Neesa was glad these two had finally found peace. This morning, Colin had smiled at her, even done her a favor. Maybe it lasted only for this operation, but hopefully longer. Maybe they could even figure this hijacked operation out. But who knew how deeply he was involved. And Janet hadn’t been the same after the fight she’d had with Colin. As siblings, they should’ve worked something out, but well, that wasn’t really Neesa’s job. She wouldn’t meddle, only encourage. After all, Janet and Colin had gone through so much, lost their father tragically, and they could be a great team if they would want to find a way. Their new ally, Mr. Lomawu, trailed behind them. He’d attended the briefing with them and had been assigned with a task. Neesa was on edge every time the Wakandan was around, but she took all her professionalism together and didn’t let him see behind her façade. Janet and she had worked too hard on uncovering whatever game was being played here. As authority holder of a foreign government, it was none of his business anyway.

Colin nodded at what Neesa said, agreeing with her on the proposed line of action. The dark-skinned girl smiled kindly and opened the door to the office for him. He stepped in and she followed. His senses were on alarm right away. It was way too quiet here and someone was sobbing. _What was going on?_ Neesa, at his side, screamed behind her hand. Then, she began to run towards something - Oh God, that was a corpse - but Colin grabbed her hand.  
“Sniper“, he whispered. “Maybe he’s still out there.“  
“How are you so calm?“ Neesa had tears in her eyes, despite her training, despite her field experience. She’d seen corpses, blood and headshots, but never of people she cared about.  
“We need to find Janet. Make sure she gets the team on this.“  
“Colin. This _is_ Janet.“ He froze. What? _What!?_ His eyes widened, his blood froze. He’d agreed with Lawrence that they’d have to get her out of action for their deal to work. But he never meant- No. That couldn’t have been his friend’s doing.  
“No“, he whispered, to himself, while fighting the emotions to take over his body. His heart beat fast right now and he felt dizzy. Janet. It was her, clearly. Her red hair splayed over the floor. Her beautiful cream blazer ruined, stained.  
She was gone. Carefully staying in the cover of the office desks, he crouched closer to his dead sister. No. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind, bumping into each other until all he heard and knew was a terrible scream, raw and painful. _I didn’t ask for forgiveness. I still loved you. I just - I’m so sorry. Janet, my sweet little sister. Forgive me. For everything._

Blood had soaked through the fabric on his knees, but Whittaker didn’t care. There would be dark stains, reminding him forever of the last moment with her. Where he finally kneeled. And pleaded for forgiveness. Where it tore his heart apart to see her this way, dead and quiet. Where only the idea of her person was left. And no, not one of his words, the words he still had left for her, the words still stuck inside of him, unspoken, would matter now. She was dead. And it was his fault.  
They’d provoked the Black Widow. If all this was her - then God help him, he’d not relent until she stood before him, where he could look her in the eyes and show her what it meant to take a life. To put a burden so heavy onto someone that she’d know forever that freedom wasn’t gonna be a part of her life anymore. She’d pay for his sister’s death. But if this was Lawrence’s business, if he’d waited for a moment where Whittaker wouldn’t witness the cruelty that spies were known for, the man could prepare for a storm that would rip him apart. Because, treason, that was fine for the amount of money included in the deal, but his sister, no matter how much hate had been exchanged between them, was untouchable.

Colin stood up, only the trace of tears clouding his eyes. A fiery determination filled his body.  
“Lawrence, would you please come with me?“ Whittaker didn’t even wait for the answer, he just pulled the Wakandan with him. As soon as the door closed behind him, he started firing.  
“Explain this to me, Lawrence“, he growled, “what does it mean? My sister is dead.“  
The dark skinned man raised his hands in defense. His eyes were calm. He knew Colin, had been his friend for a long time. But he didn’t let his feelings and personal attachments get in the way with this mission, just like he had promised to Zola. This was more important, but still, lying to an old friend didn’t feel good. Lomawu pushed it away, played the game Colin was starting to suspect. He’d need to appear serious and credible.  
“I’m really sorry about what happened.“  
“I gotta know“, Colin said angrily, stepping closer and into his companion’s private space. “Was it you? Was it your asset, the Remnant? No one saw it coming. Just like you promised when we made the deal.“  
Yes, the Remnant had killed Janet, but Lawrence knew that she hadn’t left any traces. She never did. And Colin hadn’t seen the little wound between the ribs. No one saw it at the first glance, not even at the second or third. Lawrence was safe with his lie. The past week’s events were enough to conjure up a suspicion in Colin’s mind that would lead him away from Hydra’s path and onto Romanoff’s tail. Janet had come so close to figuring it all out, together with her assistant, the little incident this morning had shown him that. Of course, Lawrence knew where their office was, but he’d needed to play the innocent while figuring out how much they knew. But Colin, well, Colin wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure what to believe. Had placed a foot on both sides, the CIA and Hydra. He just didn’t know. Lawrence could work with that. It wouldn’t take much to lead his friend to the right trail.

“Colin, look at me. How long have we been together? I went through all the valleys with you, carried your burdens and conflicts. My loss is your loss. Has always been, will always be.“  
Well, not if Colin found out. But he wouldn’t. If the Black Widow, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson were finally dead, not a single secret would come to the surface. And Bucky Barnes? The Winter Soldier never spilled secrets. As soon as they had him back, Zola would get back to perfecting him.  
“Do you really believe I would send an asset, an assassin, to kill your sister while I am in your office, able to talk to her directly, or even your director? I could use two hundred other ways to get her out of here, off the mission, off the unit. T'Challa would have my head for this.“  
But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even know, was gonna think Lawrence died. Wouldn’t care, just like with his father. He hadn’t before.  
“Your king? You were furious when his father rejected your anointing as leader of your intelligence commando. You hate him.“  
“But still I am loyal. He is not his father.“  
It didn’t matter who the king was, really, Zola had taught him how they were all the same. Yes, T’Chaka hadn’t granted him the official and traditional ceremony as the introduction to one of the highest positions in the government. Yes, that had been deeper than just a kick in the gut. And Lomawu had sworn to have revenge for that dishonor.  
Colin mustered his face.  
“You’re not the same either. You hated him for it with a burning rage, I remember that. We met for coffee, before a conference, when you told me. How no one appreciated your choice to find out how the world worked before serving your country. Although you had studied abroad to serve Wakanda. They just didn’t see that; they hated you for being different.“  
Lomawu swallowed, just like he’d swallowed all the hate and the shame back then. It had brewed deep inside of him, back then, and the boiling soup had bubbled up when he met Alexander Pierce. He smiled. He had been lucky to meet Pierce. To have met Zola, who was a genius thought dead. Who had a vision greater than T’Challa had a nation.  
“I forgave him, Colin. Even these enhanced people are just humans.“  
It surprised Lawrence how easy these words flowed from his mouth. The more lies he told, the calmer he became. He was better at this than he’d thought, Colin believed him. _It was all for the greater good._  
“Does your offer still stand? Your special task force, is it still ready?“, Colin asked. He’d make this a kill mission, he’d send them after the Black Widow.  
“Yes. As soon as we have a location, I can send them in.“  
“This better be worth the 40k you promised me. Let’s do this.“  
Lomawu nodded. 

Everything happened according to the plan. With Colin’s wish for his special team, he finally had the go on sending them out. They’d go after the Black Widow, yes, but Colin had no idea who this team consisted of. Barton, Maximoff, and Lang would never kill Romanoff, but they wouldn’t hesitate to kill the Remnant on his order, on T’Challa’s order. Not if they were sure she was not at all like their Bucky. And she wasn’t. Sure, she was a killer like him, merciless and obedient, but right now, she was his bait.  
This had all been much easier than he’d hoped for. Basically, he was only acting on commands, always had hidden safeties. He was telling a few lies. But his reward would be great.


	13. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Sorrow by Sleeping At Last

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _   
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

Steve woke up feeling more than just uncomfortable. Every breath felt like someone was rubbing a frickin’ grater against the inside of his throat. He coughed and hated himself for it. Coughing felt worse. Steve slowly reached for his neck and examined the skin there. Not only was it warm, but he could barely touch it. Still too sensitive.  
Steve sighed and sat up very slowly. The dizziness in his head passed and suddenly, a new awareness of his surroundings sent him into a little shock. The green leather sofa he sat on, the cappuccino-colored walls and the white candles on the window sills. The little bonsai sitting there. The shades before the windows, the futon bed on the other side. He didn’t recognize any of that. But seeing Bucky asleep on the mattress reassured Steve a little; at least he wasn’t alone in this strange place. His thoughts wandered back to the previous events. He’d fought Rebecca. She’d almost killed him. Steve’s hands wiped over his face.  
It hurt, seeing her like this. A woman he knew. It was different than with Bucky. He’d never believed he’d be alive without Bucky one day. Before the army, that was Steve’s unwritten truth. Bucky and him, they’d stay together. And then, Bucky had gotten drafted and Steve had stayed back and everything developed into a different scenario than Steve had pictured. His choice, however, had brought them back together.  
_But Rebecca?_ She wasn’t supposed to go through any of this. Not through the war, not through seventy years of Hydra. Her life was with her family, unlike Steve and Bucky’s life in the city. Pursue a career, have kids, live a life that was peaceful and pure. But Hydra just had to pervert everything, twist people until they didn’t fit into their own skins anymore. Until they had to become someone else. Until they killed without remorse.

A sound pulled Steve away from the drama unfolding in his head. Immediately, he went into high alert. _Who was that?_ Bucky still hadn’t moved, so someone else had to be in there with them. The supersoldier wasn’t sure if his memories were real. _Had Natasha pulled him out of that living room? Or was it someone else? What if Hydra had captured him and the others? What if-?_

  
Sam stepped into the room, wiping his hands on a small towel. His exhausted face lit up a little when he noticed Steve was up.  
“Hey, man. Good to see you. Alive, I mean. You looked pretty messed up.“  
“I feel messed up. Where are we?“  
“Another one of Nat’s places. I wonder how many else she’s got. Didn’t take her for the rich girl.“  
“You’d be surprised.“  
A little beep sounded through the room. _What was that? An activated explosive?_ Steve’s head whipped around and it brought tears to his eyes.  
“Hey, take some care of yourself! Your throat is swollen. I think that means you shouldn’t move it.“  
“Did you hear that?“  
Sam nodded and held up his wrist. He wore a digital watch that was blinking a little. The pararescue gave it a look, then turned towards a cupboard.  
“Yeah. It’s time.“  
_Time for what?_ Steve spotted a little ampoule and a syringe on the cupboard. Sam took it and walked towards Bucky. Before Steve could move, his best friend had been injected with something.  
“Sam! What the heck!? What is going on?“  
“Making sure we don’t die a ridiculously painful and ill-timed death by this idiot’s… idiocy. He doesn’t get to kill me, I made that decision this morning.“  
Steve shot him a look that would’ve been capture-worthy every other time. Sam would’ve loved it as a screensaver or even better, background. That look of confusion was just memorable. But considering their circumstances, Sam just continued rambling.  
“So, ever since that, we’ve kept him on sedatives“, he held the ampoule before his face to examine it. “This stuff is for horses. He just keeps burning through it. What we need is that stuff they shoot the, uh, the dinosaurs with at Jurassic Park. It told Nat she should get that.“  
Steve scrunched his face. _What the hell was going on!?_  
“Sam, are you alright?“  
“Peachy. I feel good.“  
Okay. That was… good considering the thick bandages all over Sam’s body. Steve mustered his friend who sat down on the armchair. Something was wrong. For a moment, Steve wasn’t sure what it was, but then he noticed. Sam hadn’t flinched while sitting down, not for a second.  
“Sam, did Nat give you anything? For your pain?“  
“Thank God she did.“  
“And where is she now?“  
“Not sure, man. Just told me to keep an eye on you two. Called you sweetheart.“ Sam sported a wide grin. Of course he’d remember _that_ , Steve thought. _Great. What do we do now?_

He let his eyes wander through the room. An alarm told him it was afternoon by now, but still the same day they’d attacked Hydra in Augsburg. He wondered if Nat had some kind of plan right now.  
But she wasn’t here. _What did that mean? Was she meeting someone else, conveying information?_ Steve couldn’t shake the little shiver crawling over his back. Whatever she was doing, it required Bucky to be out of it. That couldn’t be good at all. If they were going to take down Zola, they’d need Bucky awake and with his full power. _Was she trying to prevent them from going after Hydra? Did she have a secret plan that could ruin everything?_ Steve could’ve screamed right then because people he trusted were keeping things from him again. He hated it.  
“But why would Bucky try to kill us, Sam? What am I missing? Did anything happen? Did you find Zola?“  
“Did we find him? More like we ran right into his trap. Although technically, the trap part wasn’t made for us. But since we trusted that crazy addict, we’re back to one and people are dead and we can’t even protect each other.“  
“Addict? Dead people? Sam, could you explain?“ Steve sighed. This was like talking to a drunk person. He’d always taken Sam for a hilarious drunk. Well, life was disappointing.  
“It was all about Barnes, that little shit. Hydra has him on their hook like a hunted duck. Wow, that rhymed. Well, now we got the Winter Soldier. Maybe we can trade him tomorrow.“ Sam smiled lazily and leaned deeper into his seat. Steve rolled his eyes. That guy really needed to sleep.  
“Wait! What happens tomorrow?“  
“Oh yeah. Tomorrow, we’re gonna meet Z- Zem- Zu…“  
“Zola?“  
“Yeah“, he mumbled, words blurring more the closer he came to falling asleep, “such an asshole.“

And with that, Sam was asleep and snoring on the armchair. Steve decided it was better that way. If they wanted to get anything done, they’d need everyone sober and armed with a clear mind. Steve shrugged his discomfort off. He’d never had such a weird conversation with Sam. Something was off with him.  
Steve stood up and noticed the door that led to a kitchen.  
It was small, but there was enough space for a microwave, a fridge, some cabinets and a table with a little bench with pillows for seating. Some things cleared up when Steve noticed the open Vodka bottle on the table. So Sam _was_ drunk. Something big must’ve happened.  
But there was a little note as well, on top of a pile of loose papers, folders, and notes. _Hi Steve, hope you’re better. I’m just running some errands, be back in a few. Keep Barnes on Ketamine, it’s safer that way. Check out the intel we took from the base last night._ Steve tossed the crumpled paper into the paper bin.  
So, after a rather disappointing meal Steve put together from the few supplies available in the kitchen, he sat down examining the material of information Nat had supplied him with. He followed her notes and highlighted paragraphs.  
A report stated the end phase of _Project: Awakening_ with explicit dates. Another look at the alarm sent a wave of disappointment through Steve. _Today._ _This morning._ Zola must’ve already been  
Zola must’ve already been resurrected if the plan had worked. And, while Steve prayed that there had been complications because of their attack in Augsburg, he was sure it had worked.  
A phone transcript praised the high quality of the Stark Tech they’d managed to get their fingers on. A unique piece, not even finished, that only needed a few days of recalibration. If they used Tony’s machines, success was written over Hydra’s horizon, the supersoldier knew that. Tony was too much of a genius to build defective machinery. On top of that, Steve’s eyes noticed how the papers mentioned an address in Munich. Augsburg wasn’t even significant to Zola’s plan. _Then why had they gone to that base?_

* * *

Natasha had left Steve, Sam, and Yasha in her apartment with the best intentions possible. She’d made sure to leave the door to the little closet locked, hoping that the three soldiers wouldn’t notice the hostage she kept in there while she was actually getting stuff done. After all, she needed to make sure they’d get through this with an advantage. Not that the captured agent would matter to Hydra; Zola or Lomawu, it didn’t matter, they would laugh at her face for proposing a deal based on a hostage.   
But the CIA, they might actually attach value to this person and Natasha could come out on top. Plus, Steve was heavy. She’d needed someone to help her carry the supersoldier.  
Right now, the redhead stood on a roof approximately twenty minutes from her apartment. She grabbed the long-range rifle from the gun bag that an hour ago, still had been safe in a locker at Munich airport. Sitting behind an industrial chimney, she quickly gained an optimal shooting position for the office building across two streets. She put all the different pieces of the gun together with quick movements and placed it before her. The sky above her was gray and painted with different kinds of clouds, but luckily, there wasn’t much wind.  
Sitting behind an industrial chimney, she quickly gained an optimal shooting position for the office building across two streets. She put all the different pieces of the gun together with quick movements and placed it before her. The sky above her was gray and painted with different kinds of clouds, but luckily, there wasn’t much wind.

It didn’t take long to find the windows through which several CIA agents plus a dozen computers, laptops, and other electronic devices were visible. Floor number five.  
She pulled out her phone, typing the number she knew would ring one of the agent’s phones on that level. That poor guy had no idea what was about to happen. Someone behind the windows moved, pulled out a phone.  
“This is Unit SL-06-WH“, the agent on the other end answered. “Do you want me to connect you to Mr. …“  
“Mr. Wilkins, this is Langley. We need to configure your building’s infrastructure to be able to connect you to our servers. We just need you to switch the light off for five seconds. That’s all.“  
Natasha smiled. Getting this agent’s phone number had been easy. One of the first skills a spy learned. Now, if he followed her instructions, he would actually connect her to the level’s electricity and communication systems, even their servers if she intended to use them. But that wasn’t necessary for what she wanted.  
“Copy, Ma’am. I’m on it.“

Through the phone, Natasha heard shuffling and steps. Suddenly, the light was switched off on the entire level. She watched agents jumping up in shock through her rifle’s scope. All the voices in the office sounded faint, in the background, but the Russian recognized Colin Whittaker’s voice. He was the task force leader, so naturally, she was familiar with him. That was one of the most basic preparations before starting anything - research.  
She wondered where his partner, Janet Annie Henderson, was right now. Maybe she hadn’t been able to join him on their trip to Munich.  
“What is happening, people? Johnson, give me visuals on all hallways and staircases! I need to see everything. Are we under attack? Michaels, get down there, check the buildings’ controls! Take three agents with you.“  
The light was switched back on and Natasha looked at her phone.  
“Sorry, Ma’am?“, the young agent spoke up again. “We don’t…“  
“Agent Wilkins, you may connect me to Mr. Whittaker now.“  
A moment passed, but the spy watched Whittaker take the phone. He didn’t suspect anything yet. Quickly, Natasha connected her phone to the office’s speakers. Everyone needed a little surprise every now and then. Government agents were way too serious, anyways.

“This is Colin Whittaker and…“  
“Hi, Colin. Look, you can call your agents back, you’re alright. No attacks happening right now, believe me, I’d give you a warning.“ She smiled sweetly. He wouldn’t guess how close she was. All the agent’s heads whipped around, taking the female voice filling up the room as a sign of invasion. Probably thinking their building had been taken over by her when really, she hadn’t set a foot into it.  
“Natasha Romanoff.“  Whittaker caught his breath, audibly surprised. Whoever he thought was calling, this was definitely not who he had expected. The Black Widow. Nat could hear the moment of surprise, but she also noticed background noises, shuffling, to increase. Of course, they’d try to track her call. A predictable move. Boy, the agency had probably never thought of not following protocol, the only thing that could really make them unpredictable and, therefore dangerous to a spy with world- level experience.  
“What do you want?“  
Natasha huffed. _You won’t be able to trace me even if we talked for three hours, honey. I’ll give you credit for trying, though. Let’s see what I can squish out of you._  
“Where is General Ross?“  
“In Berlin, cleaning up your little gang’s mess. Never left after you disappeared.“  
“So he sent you. To hunt me down.“  
“He didn’t have to. Miami, London, and Munich speak for themselves. What do you want?“  
Natasha’s eyes were still trained on the task force leader standing next to a desk in that office. Whittaker, with a rifle’s target on his head. And so far, he didn’t even suspect anything.  
“I want your agents off my ass.“  
“You killed ten of our agents in the last three weeks. What do you really want?“  
Natasha reminded herself to get done. Time was a luxury good these days.  
An idea flickered through her head right then. If she could get into that task force’s quarters, she could relay inside information to Steve; they’d know everything. But she couldn’t go in herself. She’d need a mole.  
Natasha grinned. This would be fun. She’d have to be careful, though, because she couldn’t shake the suspicion that Hydra had already managed to infiltrate the CIA in some way or another. How else did the CIA manage to follow her up so precisely, always taking turns to tire her out?  
She focused back on the office. Her heart did a little jolt when she saw Clint’s face a few desks over. Seemed like her plan was gonna work out much faster than she could’ve imagined. Clint’d make a good mole. _Perfect._  
“A chat. Viktualienmarkt, in an hour. Send in an experienced agent. Someone who knows how to behave.“  
“And why would I agree to that?“  
“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with a target so high up on your agency’s Black List who actually wants to come in, Whittaker. Send Agent Barton, I trust him.“  
“That’s ridiculous. He’s been hiding ever that screw-up in Ross’ max security prison. I can’t get your little crush out for a date right now.“  
Natasha observed Whittaker. _That jerk’s looking mighty pleased with himself. Time to shake it up. Let’s have a little fun._  
“Alright, sweetheart. Don’t trouble yourself then, okay? Just ask that handsome archer guy standing right behind you. He’s my type.“  
The call ended right there; the Russian had hung up. All the agents stood in shock, scrambling towards the windows and the surveillance cameras to spot the spy observing them. Her words still hung in the room like a warning, sucking the breath out of every agent, pulling the safe ground away beneath their feet.  
Natasha smiled. This game worked every time, she’d learned that from a very experienced colleague familiar with being on the run.  
This game worked every time, she’d learned that from a very experienced colleague familiar with being on the run.

Natasha already stood between the many huts of the Viktualienmarkt, waiting for her archer friend to arrive. Exactly four CIA agents in normal clothes had walked past her figure, every single one determined to find her, but completely oblivious to her disguise. She didn’t blame them.  
Not even the three sniper teams on the roofs of the high houses that turned this plaza into a cauldron.  
Natasha doubted that she would recognize herself in a mirror. This dirndl costume was a little over the top and the pink didn’t go with her hair, that’s why she’d had to spend six euros more on one of those hair sprays with coloration. That’s why her hair looked so… unique right now, with blonde and extremely blonde parts and those parts that didn’t really want to cooperate and turned into a strawberry blonde. Not that it mattered, Natasha put them into a what she thought very Bavarian-looking braid. Oh, and she also totally nailed the open décolleté part.  
Of course, there were a hundred different outfits Natasha could’ve opted for instead of this dirndl, but she really needed to know what Clint thought. Also, she would keep the outfit. If Clint liked it, he wouldn’t have to look for birthday gifts for Laura anymore. It was a running gag, no one ever suspected Laura to be a Halloween fan, but every year, she proved all the doubters wrong. Natasha grinned when she remembered her photo gallery full of photos of Laura in Halloween costumes - most of them featured her or the kids in the foreground, smiling like there was no tomorrow, and a grumpy-looking, eye-rolling Clint in the background, with the same cowboy hut and banjo every year, hilariously pretending to hate Halloweeen.

The Russian spy moved as soon as the blonde strolled onto the plaza. His familiar strut suggested he was in a good mood, albeit concentrated. Natasha’s eyes dropped onto his shoelaces. She smiled. The knot and the bow told her he was both equipped with a tracker and a microphone, a bug. Okay, she’d take care of that. No problem.  
Natasha walked over, following a pair of similar dressed girls, both carrying a box of almost violet vegetables from one hut to another. Eggplant. The sign said Aubergines. German was a funny language, she thought and unconsciously grabbed a box of vegetables from a hut she’d just passed to imitate the girls. They still walked into Clint’s direction.  
Of course, the vendor in the hut jumped up, yelling like crazy. Heads turned, people stopped. _Perfect._ Natasha gently put the box aside, snook up to Clint and dragged him behind one of those huts, completely out of the way.  
He looked confused for not just one moment but a few and recognition only appeared in his eyes when Natasha put a finger to her lips and made the ASL signs for _you’re bugged_.  
Barton nodded and pointed at the spot they’d put the microphone. It was almost too small to notice, clipped to the lining of his jacket. Without hesitation, Natasha crushed it under her feet. She kicked the remains. Clint took care of the tracker himself, pretending to be a basketball player at the three- pointer, totally nailing the throw. The tracker landed on some passerby’s bicycle.  
“Okay. Now tell me what the CIA has on me”, Natasha started, but Clint shook his head with on of the widest grins she’d ever seen on him.  
“Nah. First, you tell me what inspired you to this outfit. You look…”  
“Amazing? I think gorgeous might be the word you’re looking for.”  
“… like a teenager tried to give you a makeover. Emphasis on _tried_. That poor guy. This fail, well, the image of this…uh, hair will haunt him forever.”  
“Ha-ha”, Natasha playfully shoved his shoulder, “but really-“  
“No, but seriously. Are you still in that freakish contest with Pepper? Where you guys try to trump each other with the creepiest fashion faux pas from all over the world?”  
“Barton. How often did I tell you it’s not whatever you just came up with? Anyway, let’s get to serious business.”  
“Oh, I do think this outfit is very serious business.”  
“God, what did they give you?”  
“Have you tasted this shitload Whittaker calls coffee? And I’ve run past two Starbucks. With three snipers watching my neck”, the blonde was practically whining by now. He was a wreck without his coffee.  
“See, that’s the spirit! Desperation. Now we’re on the same page. What do they have on me?”  
So Barton nodded, telling the spy every detail that could be important to her. He told Natasha about the team, about Janet Henderson’s sudden death and about his theories. The suggestion that the Black Widow had massacred several CIA teams, the case disguised as a clear fact with backup proof, hadn’t triggered any emotions in him. Natasha was far from her mental state she had been in during the years when he met her first. Clint hadn’t believed anything the CIA said from that lie on. And of course, he’d developed a few theories on his own.  
“Whittaker could have wanted to framed me. But his men aren’t _that_ good. Plus, he wouldn’t kill his own agents. If it really is Lomawu acting behind the CIA’s back, it means it can’t be good”, Natasha figured. “But it actually fits with what we came up with so far. He’s Hydra, we know that.”  
“Those guys Steve fought before our parents were born. Still can’t get over the fact that he could be my grandpa. Well, a grandpa who smashed three Helicarriers into DC.”  
“Interesting… picture. Do you know where Lomawu is right now?”  
“He left for a walk with Henderson’s assistant. She seemed pretty shaken after Mrs. Henderson was shot”, Clint said, taking a look at the watch he was wearing. “I put a tracker on him. He’s not too far from here.”  
“Okay. I could take him on my own. No problem”, Natasha smiled. Maybe she could surprise the shady Wakandan. Anything to give Steve a break.  
But Clint objected.  
The problem wasn’t half the task force who accompanied them, but Wanda and Scott. That made everything so much more complicated. Good thing she’d given Wanda classes on self-defense and body language, Natasha thought. She wasn’t sure about Lang. Hopefully, it’d be enough.  
“I’ll get Rogers, Wilson and Barnes. We can-“  
“Barnes? Where did you find him? We combed through every damn acre of Wakandan soil for his ass after the Remnant freed him.”  
“He found us. In Cologne.”  
“So he did kill that CIA unit.”  
“No. That was the Remnant.”  
Natasha continued then, always wary of their surroundings. She knew that every second could be their last peaceful moment. But she had positioned herself and Clint between huts, an area none of the snipers could access without coming down, which they were not allowed to.  
Clint nodded when she proposed a plan. It was a good one.   
“Steve won’t forgive you.”  
“They will be safe.”  
“You know he’ll sacrifice safety-“  
“He won’t have to. That’s why we’re doing this. The plan will work. I’ll make sure it will.”  
“You contacted the director, didn’t you?”  
Nat grinned. She had no idea how he knew.  
“Thank God you had a good teacher”, she said and leaned into him.  
Clint hugged her.  
“See you in a few.”  
He took the little comm device from her hand and connected it to his hearing aid.  
Then, the two of them ran towards the majestic church, hiding Clint behind the enormous organ just in time before two agents entered the church. They were disguised as tourists, but Natasha knew where their guns were hidden.  
She sneakily took a selfie, because she couldn’t actually let Pepper win the round to their game, and disappeared behind a pillar. The two men passed her and she took them down quickly. Before any real tourists could notice, she called Clint, who helped her hide the bodies.  
Then, she tied his wrists together and cuffed the agents.  
The blond archer nodded.  
“It’ll take them a while to find us. Go, tell the director I said hi.”  
Natasha pulled out her phone, quickly texting her contact while returning to her car.  
_Let’s meet up. Tell the director I have the files he wanted, both Rogers’ and Barnes’._

* * *

Something moved in the corner of Steve’s eye. The blond dared to look up and faced a machine gun focused on him. A confused, empty ghost behind it. His face cold, calculating.  
Steve froze. He wasn’t sure what to say. _What was even left to say?_ This was a never ending story of him chasing a tail out of reach. Maybe coming to an end wasn’t so bad.  
“Hiya, Buck“, he forced a smile for his friend. The best he could give right now. The other man just stared back. Steve didn’t care. As long as he didn’t start shooting, he was fine with the brunet pointing a gun at him. His eyes went back to the papers on the table.  
He was trying to figure out a riddle but couldn’t shake the feeling that every single answer to it was just another carefully laid out hint and whatever plan they developed, Hydra already anticipated it. For minutes, silence hung like a veil between the man and the ghost.  
“St- Steve?“  
Steve had never heard his name laced with so much hesitation before. But it made him sigh in relief.  
“Yeah, pal. You alright?“  
“Don’t think I’ll ever be alright.“  
“I know the feeling. You’ll get chances to redeem yourself.“  
“I’m not a hero, Steve.“  
Bucky’s posture screamed professional killer, but his eyes looked deep and old, full of rivers that were returning to once dry riverbeds. His voice sounded as husky as it used to when he came home from his late shifts at the dock, around 70 years ago. Somber, with a tinge of exhaustion. No man could ever understand what Bucky Barnes was carrying with himself every day of his life.  
“No one expects you to be one.“  
“That’s crap. The whole world expects me to be a hero, like you. But Bucky Barnes died in the war.“  
“And since when do you listen to the world? You were the one who taught me not to, with every fight that I dragged myself into. You’ll be whatever you want, Buck. But you gotta want something. You gotta make the decision.“  
“I know.“  
“What happened yesterday, in Augsburg?“  
“What did Sam tell you?“  
“Not much. He’s drunk.“  
“I made a wrong decision, that’s all. Took my prep drugs. Makes it… easier for Hydra to get into my head. Sam was there and it”, he let out a sigh Steve recognized as deep regret, “well, it got rough. He’ll feel it for days. You look terrible too, what happened to you?“

So Steve told him everything that had happened, from the facility’s superior Natasha had tortured for information to his fight with Rebecca that had almost cost him his life.  
Bucky mustered Steve and pointed at the files littering the kitchen table.  
“Anything helpful?”  
Steve snorted.  
“Tons of encryption, numbers, and codes. Can’t pull much out of that. As far as I understood, Zola intends to use Tony’s machine to transfer his consciousness into a human body.”  
Bucky nodded slowly.  
“Sounds like him. Any details on how, when, where?”  
“I’ve seen this kind of thing before. Back then, I had a team of friends to handle the situation.”  
“You have friends to help you this time.”  
“But no team. Look at us, Buck, we’re not a team. Sam’s out, Nat tried to keep you out of it, we don’t know where she is…” He held out the paper slip Natasha had left.  
“Running errands?”  
“Whatever that means. For all we know, she could be anywhere, with anyone, spying around or killing people. Pal, I’m aware you know her a great deal better than any one of us, but right now…”  
“…we can’t trust her. I see your point. Her backup plans and scheming have fired back. She should’ve told us what she’s doing.” The Soldier sighed, but a thought caught his attention.  
“You mentioned she had files about us.”  
Steve stiffened and wiped his face with his hand. This whole mission had gotten so much more complicated in the matter of a few hours. Right now, it seemed much easier to just come up with a plan without her. He’d rather go into a fight with one person less than with one person that he couldn’t trust.  
“ _Had_. They’re gone. I checked before you woke up. Also, we had a guest. Messed up closet, broken handcuffs, pretty much speaks for itself. I have no idea what she thinks she’s doing, but I don’t like any of it.”  
“Okay. I’m with you. Did you find anything else about Zola?”  
“He’ll need a power surge to get the transfer done, a big one. So I checked Munich’s power grid”, Steve’s pointer ran over the map, showing the spots he’d marked with different colors, “there are a few spots for generators off the grid, the hospitals, the banks, all those, but there is only one spot with a big generator right next to a hydroelectric power station.”  
“The Museum of Science and Technology.”  
“Exactly. The power of the hydroplant usually wouldn’t give off enough electric power to do the job, but today at”, Steve checked the green kitchen watch above the bookshelf, “in three hours, they’ll lead a new channel into the Isar. The surplus water will rush through and supply Zola with all the energy he needs.”  
“That’s in broad daylight.”  
“We need to be there. If we can pull the plug, he’s stuck.”  
“He’ll have at least one unit in place. She’ll be there, too, no doubt… You met her last night.”  
That was a statement, not a question. Steve knew Bucky didn’t need Hydra’s spy training to read him. The bruised neck was a clear sign, too.  
“I tried pulling her back”, Steve sighed, recalling the still fresh, still painful memories, “but I couldn’t, not like I did with you. She just kept coming at me. Maybe it didn’t work because it was me. I’m sorry, Buck.”  
“Are you saying that I should try to pull her back? She’s my twin sister, but never was I her brother.”  
“That’s not your fault. Your parents sent her to boarding school.”  
“And before that? I left for New York. I didn’t know her, not like a brother should’ve. I can’t pull her back either, Steve.”  
There was no echo in the small kitchen, but the words left an ugly reverberation that seemed so grave to Steve that he wished he didn’t have to have conversations like this.  
“Maybe it’s good you took your drugs.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Bucky doesn’t know his sister. But the Winter Soldier knew the Remnant. You said she was your backup operative. Do you remember something special she said to you? Or did you say something important that she might remember?”  
Bucky hesitated, buried his face in his big, calloused hands.  
“There’s nothing to remember, Steve. I don’t want to, either.”  
“I know. The past hurts. It’s gotta. We wouldn’t make it through to the future if it didn’t. C’mon, you gotta help me a little.”  
“We…we never really talked. Our supervisors and handlers didn’t appreciate unauthorized communication. Wanna know where my tac suit’s muzzle came from? I got it when I started working with her; she had it first. We were supposed to match, like a unit. I could take it off once we were back in the base, but they never let her.”  
“Do you know why?”  
Bucky stiffened up for a second but shook it off very abruptly. His face scrunched up, his eyes shut close for a long moment. Almost as if he tried to remember something, like a memory trying to break through, that actually didn’t quite reach the surface. Steve knew remembering was painful, but they needed more intelligence. Death was never the aspirated outcome of any mission.  
“No. But… she was my nurse before she… tried to break me out.“  
“She failed.”  
“Of course she did! She was young, a _nurse_ with too much compassion for her own good. It landed her a spot in the wilderness with the Red Room girls. When she returned, it was like… the wilderness had killed her, as if she had died out there.”  
Steve sighed. Survival was harder than steel. It had broken many men before, strong men with potential and a future, leaving them scarred for life. It crept into their dreams and distorted the beautiful images of endless green into pouring red and suffocating black.

“What’s your plan?”, Bucky asked, noticing how his friend’s forehead had crinkled up from all the sorrowful thoughts. Hydra had made him forget a lot of things, but they didn’t manage to extinguish his instincts. Especially not the instinctual knowledge about Steve’s subtle expressions. He needed to change the topic.  
Steve explained his plan.  
“Okay. I’ll get Sam. Let’s crush Hydra.”  
Sam was not excited to go on “another spin on the Hydra-carusel”, as he put it. Bucky’s eyes stayed on him, even when the pararescue shot an uncharacteristic glare at the mirror. They didn’t leave him when dark hands smashed the cutlery drawer shut and they even picked up the shakiness of the same hands ripping open a sugar pack over a steaming cup of coffee. Steve was packing up things, but Bucky noticed. Something strange hung around Sam, a silent, inner entropy that begged to be released. So Bucky walked over to face Sam. If they entered a mission like this, the pararescue would be distracted and consequently, be killed. Rebecca was a trickster, and troubled souls were such an easy target.  
The air became thicker the moment Bucky stepped into the kitchen, but he couldn’t risk Sam’s life. The latter did gulp, unintentionally, and clanged the mug against his lunch plate, a nervous startled movement, when his eyes spotted the metal hand just behind his table. Then, he looked up and Bucky was thrown back by the darkness in Sam’s eyes. All of a sudden, he realized. His voice was huskier than he’d hoped for.  
“I killed him, didn’t I?”  
The question dragged the ceiling down, pressed the space together. Steve, who stood in the doorway, seemed to feel it too, he unconsciously ducked. The stale air carried a hint of desperation, a hint of catastrophe. The blond soldier hesitated, he wanted to solve this conflict, but it wasn’t his battle to fight. Bucky’s sullen voice again broke the devastation.  
“The guy from your wallet, I killed him.”  
Sam’s eyes pulled to slits. Before him stood a lost man, face and posture whispering defeat. It was back - the sting of disappointment Bucky so foolishly hoped to never feel again. Every day he was awake, a new layer of his subconscious was pulled back by fate, revealing yet another victim’s death training his soul and putting fire to his mind.  
“No”, Sam answered slowly and got up, “the Remnant did.”  
He pushed past the two supersoldiers, steps driven by pain.  
The bathroom door clicked shut.

* * *

The air in the car Natasha had rented was a little stale when she returned. She blamed it on her hostage in the trunk. A quick look assured her he was still there and out of it. _Good._  
It took her less than half an hour to find both the place the director had suggested for their meeting plus a parking spot she wouldn’t be towed from. The address led her to a row of buildings that was long due for renovation. She shrugged and went on a search for the right apartment number. When she had found the right place, she almost rang the bell but realized she’d forgotten something in the car.  
“Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200$”, she sighed to herself, then turned around. The Hydra hostage cuffed to her wrist whined.  
“Really!? Why are we turning back? We just got here!”  
“Hostages don’t get to ask questions. Ruins the reputation. But if you need to know, I forgot my cappuccino in the car.”  
“You’re kidding.”  
“No. I paid four euros for this one.” He grumbled something then, but Natasha was sure she heard him complain about “hipsters” and “coffee fanatics”. It was hilarious.  
Second turn. Her finger almost pressed the doorbell, when suddenly, the door opened in front of the Russian, revealing an elderly woman with a child by her hand. Making way, Natasha quickly slid her hand over the cuff that tied her hostage to her own wrist. She pretended not to notice when his eyes went big as soon as her hand slipped into his. _Come on, man. The Black Widow’s holding your hand and you don’t play along?_ Oh, Natasha. In your hand, every man is the wrong one.  
_Well, it’s kinda hard to find someone with shared life experience._ Steve had a point.

The Russian noticed the little girl’s blue eyes were only focused on her. Natasha handed her prized cappuccino to her “boyfriend”. Then, the once redhead pulled out one of the fine pretzels she’d bought at the Viktualienmarkt. The girl’s eyes lit up at the gift. With a smile, the elderly woman stopped. She kindly inquired if the spy was here for the apartment that, apparently, was vacant. Natasha nodded, it was a good cover. _My boyfriend and I just moved to town. We’ve visited three apartments so far. Maybe today is our lucky day._ The old woman nodded and grabbed her granddaughter’s hand.  
When Natasha stepped into the building, the smell of cellar and gas hit her nose. A bicycle leaned against the wall and the lowest stair was broken. The second level looked a lot like the first, with a lonely plant sitting in a corner. Doormats were laid out in front of every apartment door except for the one holding the number three.  
She finally got her chance to signal her arrival, but she kept her left hand on her gun. When the door opened and an agent appeared, she relaxed and pulled her hostage into the room with her.  
“You brought a friend. How nice. Welcome.”  
Her eyes went around the poorly-furnitures place. The director wasn’t here.  
“Where is the director? He said he would-”  
“You’ll get a chance to talk to him in a few minutes. The files?”  
“Only if you have the breaker. Could you reach Stark?”  
“No. But, even better, Pepper Potts assisted us with the breaker. I’m not sure how she did it, but she read those terrifying papers Stark calls notes. Twice. She said you’d need to put this device right next to the electrical supply. Just stick it onto the surface. The breaker will destroy the machine and shut down every process running. If Zola is in there, he should be stuck. The essential part: you need to be there before the transfer is done.”  
Natasha nodded. She could do that. It didn’t really seem that hard. She wanted to ask a question, but the agent wasn’t done yet.  
“Is she a genius? Pepper, I mean. I’d propose her for the next Nobel Prize. Stark’s papers are”, he scooted a little closer, looking to both sides before speaking again, “a nightmare.”  
“I don’t think you can do that. Listen, my intel is stained with false information. I need to get back to Rogers as fast as possible. Lomawu is behind everything. And he’s moving fast. Too many people are on his side. I need to tell the others.”  
“He sure knows how to sell his lies. Our organization had observed him in London, ’95. Back then, he’d just finished his degrees and received a scholarship for the CIA. A brilliant student. He joined them in a time Hydra was very active.”  
“I remember. They placed many agents in government organizations back then.”  
Natasha’s mind went back to that time. Training had not been over yet, but she could recall how a few girls had been pulled out of the classes before graduation so that they could _“find their place in the world to become heralds of the new coalition“_ ; Hydra, the KGB and a few other organizations. Most of the girls were dead now. Not that Natasha missed them. Four of them had died at her own hands. She knew SHIELD had at least two more on their radar.

The agent nodded.  
“Are you ready to leave all that behind today? To slay your past? Personal attachments can’t get in the way.”  
Natasha stared at the agent. He may have read her file, but he had no idea what he was talking about. Her past was not something you could understand. Too much pain, too much death.  
“Attachment was my past. A means to obedience. I will be free by the end of the day.”  
“Are you worried about the Captain? He won’t be happy.”  
“Why is everyone so concerned with Steve Rogers’ opinion? He doesn’t intimidate me. If he decides it’s time for me to go, I’ll go. He has his standards set so high I couldn’t reach them if I became a nun. I’ll always be the Black Widow. It’s a truth I can’t shake.”  
There was a silence in the room that seemed to hang over the two agents like a gloomy cloud, leaving a prickly feeling on their skins as if summer had come and rain was in the air.  
“I should get going”, Natasha said with a look at her watch, “the boys should be up by now.”  
“You still haven’t told me about your friend, though. You two look pretty close”, the agent joked while pointing at the handcuffs.  
“Picked him up in Augsburg. Thought the director would appreciate a little gift. There is a condition, though.”  
“Condition?”  
“Only feed him hipster-style cappuchino. Don’t ask. He loves that stuff”, she ignored the hostage’s protest.  
“You’re a funny woman, Natasha. I can never figure you out.”  
“Well, Agent Harris, I don’t intend you to.”  
She stood up, ready to go. But the agent objected and pulled out a tablet. The dark screen turned into a video call screen and soon, their call was answered. The director’s face pulled up. A smile was on his lips.  
“Agent Romanoff. Good to see you. I was informed about your status. Almost choked when I was contacted about a strangely furious Lieutenant Whittaker. Good work. You left an impression. His partner, Janet Annie Henderson, was reported dead this morning. Any intel on that?“  
“It wasn’t us, I just received that information from Barton myself. I suggest you add another point on your Remnant-file.”  
“We’ll look into it. How’s Rogers doing?”  
“He’s fine… a little injured, but you can read about it in the files.”  
“But nothing serious?”  
Natasha smiled. This was hilarious. Coulson hadn’t changed a bit.  
“No, Sir. I would’ve reported serious injuries right away.“  
“Alright. The files are a valuable addition to our databases. One more thing, Romanoff; I didn’t only send my agent to supply you with the breaker, he also has a key with access to a fully equipped safe-house base in the Swiss Alps. A Quinjet is waiting for you at the Munich Oberpfaffenhofen Airport, take it and recover at the base. My apologies. I regret not being able to assist you today, but we have our hands full with urgent matters ourselves.”  
“What you did was more than enough, Coulson. Thank you.“  
“Just don’t let him go. Make sure he’s dead. We can’t afford to have him running around any longer. He’s uncontrollable.”  
“Copy that. Oh, and Coulson?”  
He watched her with that calm smile he’d worn when being introduced to Agent Romanoff for the first time. Fury had still been their boss back then.  
“Barton told me to say hi.”  
Coulson’s face lit up before it froze on the post-call screen.

Natasha was on her way to the door, her denim jacket casually thrown over her arm.  
“Bye, Agent Harris. By the way, you should tell her.”  
“What? Tell who?”  
The Russian grinned.  
“Tell Pepper about your crush”, she was already halfway through the door, but turned around again with a smirk, “before I tell Tony.”


	14. Glue

**_{Hands full of glue_  
_soothing touch_  
_i won’t leave you_  
** **_Always on your right_**

******_Own past_**  
 **_tears_**  
 **_carved into stone_**  
 **_a brother’s death_**  
 **_to last forever_**  
 **_In my head_**

**_Brings me_  
_to my knees_  
_but_ _i’ll shoot_  
_into the sky_  
_it’s time_  
_to rise_  
** **_Again_**

******_More than a companion_**  
 **_an ally_**  
 **_for life_**  
 **_count on me_**  
 **_Not for the numbers_**

******_From above_**  
 **_i see wounds_**  
 **_i see hope_**  
 **_i see fires_**  
 **_Everyone_**

**_Open wounds_**   
**_i can’t mend_**   
**_but to fix_**   
**_i’ll do my best_**   
**_Every day_**

**_Just listen to me  
Believing in you}_ **

 

_Sam’s Notes_  
_(@wordsturnintostories)_  
 _10.12.2016_


	15. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Lorde, Greeting The Menace by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _   
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

 

* * *

 

The German Museum of Technology and Science stood on an island in the middle of the Isar, a mighty complex of old architecture and modern structures. Two bridges connected the island with the rest of the city and created a pathway for the hundreds of tourists that enjoyed the warmth of this sunny day.  
Disguised with baseball caps and leather jackets, Steve, Bucky, and Sam crossed the street that led to the island in the middle of the river. Sam really hoped no one would recognize them, aware that a baseball cap really wasn’t that great for disguise, but Steve insisted he’d had a fair share of missions like this that all went well. Sam just nodded, taking another gulp of his water bottle. Surely, Steve knew what he was doing. He had, after all, been an SSR and a SHIELD agent and if he opted for baseball cap and denim jacket, well, he probably had his reasons. There was one thing the pararescue couldn’t shake, however.  
“Are you really sure we should take Rebecca with us, man? I mean, if we catch her. We might be the only ones who can help, yeah. But I doubt she wants to come with us. No offense“, he sent a quick look over to Bucky, “but Barnes ran after DC. Although, if he’d seen Romanoff, I bet he would’ve stayed.”  
Of course, that had been a joke, but Steve frowned. _Bad timing.  
_ “Natasha is on a different page than us, so leave her. And yes, Sam, we’ll take Rebecca with us. She’s his sister, we can’t just let her run around like a homeless person.”  
Sam nodded, sensing that Steve didn’t want to discuss anything right now. He didn’t like it, this anger that brewed within the blond, but he doubted he’d behave differently after a betrayal like this one. _If_ it was a betrayal. Yes, Sam’s mind had been hazed by pain and numbed by alcohol, but he didn’t believe Natasha would’ve left them in her apartment while taking care of business that would somehow oppose Steve’s plan.   
Maybe Steve was just in pain, maybe he was just exhausted, Sam thought. They all were, the Remnant had tired them out mentally and physically. We shouldn’t be here, Sam realized when a shiver of discomfort ran over his back and predicted doom. _Damn Steve and his reckless ass._

Mr. Lomawu smiled. Right now, his eyes were completely focused on the screen on the other side of this locked conference room that belonged to the Museum of Technology and Science. The screen relayed everything that happened the basement below. Well. Everything that his asset, the Remnant pointed the hidden camera in the collar of her suit at.  
Lawrence didn’t dare to tear his gaze from the dark room that was in focus now, with all the obstacles on the ground, old museum inventory, and the apparatus with Zola’s new body in there. Nothing was happening at this moment, but he knew the Captain and the Soldier were in the room already, past the guards just like Lawrence had expected.

His agents on the roof had noticed the trio first. Rogers and Barnes were accompanied by Wilson, but Lomawu knew that wouldn’t pose a problem. Rogers was the easiest to take down, even with the Wakandan advancements to his suit. In fact, the suit would be the main cause as to why he was easy to take down - Hydra’s agents would not waste his abilities by making him enter the basement with them. They listened to Lomawu’s orders and Lawrence knew Steve Rogers was a strategist. He’d position the Falcon in the air or on the roof. Also, there was a chance the winged man was not too fond of meeting Zola or the Remnant again, given the nerve-rattling meet and greet they’d had a day ago.  
But the Remnant hadn’t moved then, she’d stayed in the conference room with her handler. She had chosen to wait, revealing one of her many precious attributes, her astonishing patience that Lomawu considered admirable and scary at the same time.  
The calm behavior paired with the cunning instinct that led her every movement at precisely the right moment was just one more thing that pointed at the term “assassin”. But unlike other handlers would have in their single-dimensional thinking, Mr. Lomawu had not interfered. He had heard Zola marvel about this asset’s potential and during the last weeks, the Wakandan had not once regretted reactivating her from her cryostasis.  
Even the lead scientist had warned him about the orders he was supposed to give to her. _Never underestimate her. She will follow your orders, but she will find her own way. Don’t mess it up while she’s at it._ Considering the degree of seriousness he faced, Lomawu guessed that other handlers hadn’t been _that_ considerate and, in turn, paid with their lives.  
He had to admit, he was rather impressed with what she had accomplished so far. While his own thought had circled around Wakanda and the CIA at the same time, she’d performed perfectly in front of the Avengers on the run and the local police, and therefore, drawn all the attention away from his persona. Wakanda and the CIA had no clue what he was really doing. Henderson had bothered him, she and her smart assistant were figuring his game out. But Henderson had been cleared off the playing board and Neesa was taken care of too.  
This Hydra asset was special, Lomawu was sure. She’d left him and he could only admire the smoothness of her movements. He had placed his success into her hands and so far, she had exceeded his expectations. Because whatever orders he gave, Lawrence understood that right then, the execution depended on her own mind. It was scrambled, yes, and conditioned to obey, but in the end, it was still filled with innumerable mechanized movement patterns and intuitional knowledge about people and terrain. She knew exactly what to do. The team of scientists had worked overtime to get her ready and prep her for maximum performance. She just needed a goal. And for now, the biggest goal was retrieving the Winter Soldier. Arnim Zola’s biggest masterpiece. Also, the Asset was Lomawu’s personal guarantee for a top spot in Hydra’s upper positions, right underneath Zola’s wings, where he belonged.

The whole game had started when Rogers and Barnes entered the foyer of the museum. The Remnant was there, out of sight for the two men. The Soldier was wary, his eyes flitted around the room, but his focus was mainly on the area behind the foyer’s windows. When both men had purchased their tickets, like the upstanding citizens they were, they walked over into the exhibition. Old planes and ships greeted them, but the real treasure waited in the basement.  
Of course, Lomawu knew about his enemies’ intentions. The Winter Soldier and the Remnant were family.  
The Captain was the unwavering, uncompromising best friend who had most likely sworn an oath to protect his loved ones. The situation was easy to read, but the characters in it were forced to make the hardest decisions.  
Some men, Lomawu thought bitterly, broke under that burden, but some would only see the pain of others and carry more than they could without breaking. Lomawu looked into the mirror and sighed. Steve Rogers would carry it, without doubt, so that was exactly what he could count on. It meant that Rogers would try to steal the Remnant. And that was the reason Maximoff and Lang were one of the many aces Lomawu had not pulled out of his sleeve yet. They had sat in prison for Steve Rogers before, but would they do it again? Would they for yet another killer? Would they for a helpless case? Would the city walls once again scream ‘Fascista’ in red at the faces of these ex-Avengers?  
Steve still thought the Remnant was like his beloved Bucky, but boy, he was wrong.

Proof of that was already established three minutes later when the two men returned to the foyer. The desk lady had been called out by a colleague and therefore, the foyer was empty, providing the perfect opportunity to sneak past the ‘staff-only’ sign at the staircase and into the basement. The Remnant had disappeared, but the surveillance camera captured the Soldier’s face perfectly. Only he had noticed the tiny detail that had changed in the room during their short absence. It had only been a subtle variation, but his eyes spotted the little Russian toffee in the front desk’s candy bowl. He stiffened and his eyes shot upwards, searching in the right place at the wrong time. Of course, the Remnant was gone already, but the little, seemingly insignificant gesture had provided a lingering feeling of uncertainty.  
 _She is here_ , the lips of the brunet spelled out.  
 _Let’s hurry_ , replied the blond.

And the two soldiers didn’t waste any time. As expected, they dealt with the two guards behind the basement door quickly, gaining access to a hallway with one room that only staff provided with the right key cards could enter. The Soldier pulled both guards with him while the Captain wanted to take care of the lock with one of those ridiculous pans he carried around in his backpack. It was another advantage Lomawu had found with joy: the absence of the Captain’s shield. Not that he was helpless without it, but it did cause a lot of damage and this way, Hydra’s victory sped up significantly.  
Rogers had slammed his pan into the lock, but it didn’t give in yet. However, the little light turned green all of the sudden and the door clicked open. Both men held their breaths for a second, but nothing happened.  
“It’s gotta be a trap”, the hoarse voice of the brunet sounded wary through the speakers Lomawu listened to.  
Carefully, they passed the door. The guards on the inside reacted as fast as they could, but they didn’t pose a lasting obstacle against the super soldiers. Both Hydra agents sank to the ground, their blood invisible in the darkness of the basement room. Lomawu smiled. Everything as predicted. As long as all his agents followed their orders, he would be fine. Even with the overwhelming physicality of both war veterans, Lomawu still had the upper hand. They could punch and kick all they wanted, as long as he held their minds caged in fear and uncertainty, victory was his. The Remnant was in position.

The first thing Steve saw when entering the basement room had been fists and feet that came at him, but when they were down, his eyes flung to the other side of the room. A machine stood in the darkness, emitting a soft white light. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, Bucky’s breath, and the humming of that machine.  
Steve’s fingers grazed the wall until he found the light switch. Suddenly, Bucky grabbed his arm.  
“Wait. The electric set-up could be tied to the machine. I don’t want to mess this up.”  
The brunet pulled out a flashlight, “this should work.”  
The two men walked through the room that clearly resembled the ambient from that one horror film Sam had made Steve watch after losing a bet against his winged friend who was just outside, in the sky.  
He couldn’t remember the name of the production, but the spider webs, the old desks and museum objects certainly screamed horror film. Or had it been a tv show? He shrugged, telling himself to focus on the task. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake today.

One big pillar stood in the center of the room, holding up the ceiling that was additionally stabilized by various beams. In general, Steve was surprised the ceiling was up so high. He could stand on the tip of his toes and still not touch the cold stones above him.  
Bucky pointed at something on the other side. The light fell on some kind of chair that was covered by a blanket. The terrified expression on the brunet’s face made Steve realize which instrument of torture he was looking at.  
“Is this…?”  
“Yeah. Let’s just get to Zola. Let’s finish the war.”  
Steve nodded. He knew the feeling. He knew the war was still raging, maybe less so with soldiers shooting at each other, bombs dropping from planes or bureaus full of people attempting to decipher enemies’ codes. But all the more with the thoughts in his head, where all his fears remained, just like the old mechanisms he’d learned on and off the battlefield, to train every day to maintain shape for an unexpected attack, to subconsciously deny himself deep sleep because enemies could still attack every minute. Even his dreams, the menacingly realistic ones, with booming noises crashing through his skull and lights striking him out of nowhere. _The war had never been over._  
“I’m with you, Buck.”  
The men patted each others’ shoulders. All of this they had survived until now. Until this moment, in which they could finish off Zola, the root of the misery Hydra had brought to so many places, to so many hearts. Together, the two soldiers would free the world from its fate as collateral damage to the Red Skull’s legacy. The war had started without them, but it would end through them.

Steve and Bucky walked past old desks and dirty piles of fabric. The shiny glow the machine emitted increased the closer the men came. A _Stark Industries-_ tag praised the construction of the steel and glass container right next to the red Hydra sign sprayed onto the outward cover. It looked like a big rectangle aquarium with abnormal amounts of wiring and tubing. The single glass wall was the one on top and it was covered by a half-transparent foil on the glass. The silhouette of a body was discernible, but a message that had been scratched into the foil caught the men’s direct attention.  
“Complete transferral at 1630.”  
“That’s in thirty minutes”, Bucky mumbled and pulled his handgun out. The booming shot creaked over the glass surface. It didn’t break.  
“Great. Bulletproof.”  
A featherlight hue of air strafed Steve’s neck. He was sure it must’ve come from the door. Suddenly, Bucky’s flashlight hit the ground. Steve jumped to turn around, but strong hands fixated his shoulders. She’s here. A knee crashed against his groin. Steve toppled. Pain spread through his body. He groaned involuntarily. _Not now. Get up again._  
The enemy used his hesitation to land a hefty kick in the back of his knees. He couldn’t hold himself. Steve stumbled forward. _Not again._ All the pain of the last days came back in one wave. His hands clung to the machine before him. _Stabilize yourself. You’ve fought off worse._ Another kick in the lower back. A rough cry erupted out of his throat, he was helpless. The other person grabbed his neck tightly. The fingers were cold and strong. Steve tried to free his head, but it was useless. This time, she’d kill him. _She had his neck._ Suddenly, Steve’s mind blanked. He went back to last night, to those moments of helplessness. When he realized she wanted to kill him. Panic overcame him. Steve was panting, his eyes wide open. His throat hurt even more than yesterday. Her hands tightened and it made him choke. _No air! There’s- no air!_ His body went limp. Suddenly, she shoved him forward with all force like a sack of potatoes. The hard steel of the machine and the cracks in some of his fingers were the last things Steve felt before black overtook his sight.

Steve was down. That wasn’t good. That it had happened faster than Bucky could look proved this was serious. Steve was the strongest man Bucky knew. The blond was stronger than an ox. Even as a sick skin-and-bones stick-person, Steve had overcome death a couple of times. He’d fought labs full of Nazi troops and an elevator full of STRIKE unit hunks, and he’d fought Bucky, twice, and Tony the traitor, and now he was out on the floor.  
Bucky frowned.  
It had taken Becca only a few seconds to accomplish that. The last time Bucky had seen her fight, she hadn’t been that strong. Sure, she was clever and quick, but to take down Steve like he was a paper waiting to be folded? They must’ve put her through an immense training phase. Or they were testing new combat stuff. He wasn’t sure, though, if they’d do that with her. She was valuable, she was the only Winter Soldier- second who’d survived the first three missions with him.

Rebecca moved fast. Bucky wasn’t quite sure what to do. _Of course, he knew he had to fight Rebecca, but could he hurt his sister?_ _How had Steve broken his arm on that helicarrier over DC? How long had it taken him to forgive himself?_ He needed a way out before this situation could turn into a matter of life-and-death. For her. Because Hydra wouldn’t dare to kill their precious Winter Soldier, Bucky was sure they wouldn’t risk losing him. Maybe that was the only comfort Hydra granted him.  
But it was still dark. Bucky knew he’d have to get the light back on. Because the darkness was not his comfort zone, even if he could operate in it perfectly. The Remnant was superior in the dark.  
So Bucky quickly grabbed the flashlight and turned around. He knew where they’d come from. The light switch was right next to the door. Would he hit the switch if he threw the flashlight? Probably not. In a matter of seconds, Bucky started to move towards the wall next to him. He slid along it, finally reaching the chair of despair. For once, it gave him cover. _Good._ He stopped to listen into the dark. It was quiet. Bucky could only make out his own heartbeat and that worried him. Usually, his enemies were loud, walking with heavy steps, but this time, he faced someone who moved with the sound of a shadow - none. The perfect predator. Not if he could make her remember, if he could pull her out. One drop of water was enough to make the entire surface break, he knew how easy it was. He just hoped he would survive her irritation should he succeed.

Recalling his first walk through the room, he calculated how many steps it would take to get to the switch. Ten at most. After another second of thick silence, he started to run.  
At the third step, something collided with him. The sudden weight smashed Bucky into the dusty floor. He landed on his back. All his air was gone. His lungs screamed and Bucky gasped desperately. Like a fish out of water.  
A hand went for his face. Bucky slapped it away and threw a punch at the darkness. His fingers hit only air but at least he knew she was somewhere close. So he kicked. And hit a shin. A low groan came from his side and Bucky took in a deep breath.  
He recovered fast, making it possible to jump up and run for the light switch.  
When all the lamps turned on, Bucky looked around. She was gone. The room seemed empty. She was a master in hiding, the soldier knew that, but she wouldn’t hide forever. Bucky was about to move when suddenly, he noticed the tip of a shoe standing over the side of a beam in the ceiling. She was up there. _Good to know._  
So Bucky ran towards Steve. His only option was Steve. If the blond woke up, he’d need Bucky to defend him. Also, Bucky couldn’t feel any of his weapons in the sheaths of his suit anymore. She’d taken them all, the knives and the guns. So thank God for Steve’s clear-mindedness. She hadn’t taken his backpack that held all the pans.  
Bucky prayed that this new Teflon-technology was as good as the company had promised on the package. As durable. _Well, shit. They all lied nowadays._ He still had his arm. But he didn’t know if he really wanted to use it to hurt his twin sister. Maybe he’d have to. But he still hated the idea.  
Bucky bent down to open the backpack and was lucky to reach a panhandle because, in the same moment, she attacked. Bucky swung the handle around, making the whole backpack follow. The pans rattled as they clanked together. Becca’s cheek and head were bleeding from this one hit.  
Bucky scanned his surroundings. There wasn’t much else to use. He’d stick to his pan then. While the Remnant charged at him, moving fast to tire him out, Sam’s voice rang through the comms.  
“Steve, the guards are all down. What do you want me to do now?” Bucky couldn’t answer Sam. The Remnant held one of his knives and went for his ribs. He, in turn, targeted her feet while trying to defend his torso.  
Sam sounded more irritated now as if sensing that something was wrong.  
“Steve? Come in! Steve?”  
Bucky managed to stick his leg between hers and pull it to the side harshly. She lost balance and Bucky used the pan.  
“Steve, are you there? Do you copy?”  
“Steve’s down. Whatever you do, Sam”, Bucky was a little out of breath, “don’t come in here, okay?”  
“Are you alright, man? You sound…”  
Sam faded when the Remnant attacked again, more fierce than before. Bucky dogged her, but the knife’s sharp blade cut into the flesh of his other arm. The brunet cried out and hit Rebecca’s back with the pan, eliciting a howl. She pulled it away, out of his hands and Bucky stood before her with nothing. _I can do this. I will win. This time, I will win. I am stronger than Hydra._

Bucky was ready to go into the fist fight. He knew her weaknesses. Her arms. Her legs were stronger than his own. Her footwork was ridiculously coordinated. He needed to do some damage to it or he’d be in trouble. _Shit_. Her advantage was that she didn’t need to think about how to hit him. She followed her instincts, used raw force, they’d put her through her prepping, drowned her inhibitions.  
Bucky watched her eyes. They were cold and focused. Whenever they met his’, a little shiver ran over his body. Not a trace of sadness or joy was visible in the blue. The only thing in them was pure determination and aggressiveness. _Like I taught her._ He searched for a hunch of panic, of the numbing realization of not being in control.  
Suddenly, Bucky stumbled a step back. Her eyes changed. Her whole face changed. Every inch of skin that was visible on her, even her hand, it changed. When Bucky looked into her face again he gasped. _That’s me. She is… me._  
Bucky closed his eyes.   
_Don’t let her get into your head_ , he told himself. _This is everything I told Steve she did. Psychological warfare. This is just a trick. It’s that weapon they made for her, SecondSkin™. Don’t let yourself fall for the illusion, Bucky._  
But when he opened his eyes again, he couldn’t help but muster the person he was looking at right now. The clean-shaved face, the insecure eyes, the mouth, it was everything he had looked like when he was under Hydra. Strangely, the person before him looked like a healthier version than the one he’d seen in the rear-view mirror earlier today. This person looked… _good_. Orderly. Healthy. Strong and confident. Handsome, even, with that jawline and those bright eyes.  
He shuddered when the Remnant began to speak. His own deep, clear voice chased shivers down his back. Every little hair on his body stood up. He prayed he could end this.  
“Sergeant. The only person you’re fighting is yourself.”  
Bucky shook his head like he wanted to fight a nightmare off. This was downright creepy.  
He grabbed a chair next to him and threw it at his imitator, who just caught it easily with his metal hand. It was bizarre how it actually made an accurate sound when metal met wood.  
“Why do you keep fighting, soldier? Haven’t you realized that the world doesn’t want you?”   
“Steve wants me. Natasha wants me. That’s enough.”  
“They won’t survive this. Even if, where would you go? This is the only place where you’re welcome.”  
“This is the only place I don’t want to be.”  
“But you do belong here. You belong to Hydra.” Flashbacks started to hit Bucky, attacked him, pressed the air out of his lungs until he gasped and coughed for air. _Baghdad, Madrid, Canberra, Ljubljana_. A strong hand held him, stabilized him, rubbed his back. _A woman in a green dress, a man in a rocking chair, a prince in his nightgown, a - a newborn in the hospital, in its mother’s arms._ He watched his own fingers on a different person touch his body and he jerked back, his eyes watering from the memories that pressed back into his consciousness. _You belong to Hydra. You wake, execute and forget, Soldat._  
“I belong to myself.”  
The other Bucky shook his head. He smiled a lopsided smile that could’ve looked nice everywhere else. In a strange way, Bucky hoped that one day, he could look like that again.   
“Hydra saved you. They made you. They fed you. Without them, you’d be dead. Like most other people your age. We’re just here to pick up what is Hydra’s.”  
“I am my own. I belong to myself, no one else!”  
“Oh, but you belong to your family. _We_ are family. And family sticks together, we never let go.” Bucky was surprised there was so much emotion behind these words. He wondered if she really knew that they were family, if she understood what it meant. If she knew who she was to him or if they’d just given this information to her as mission intel.   
Whether this was part of the illusion, part of the imitation, it sounded too real to be true. Bucky had learned that some dark facility in Siberia; the things feeling most true to his mind were the fake ones until he couldn’t tell anything apart anymore. _Hundreds of memories. Feelings. Pictures. People. Blood. Death. Bodies._ Confusion threatened to slip back into Bucky’s mind. Nonetheless, there was only one thing he could reply with. Even if it felt like he was just talking to a mirror, as if he was trying to convince himself of whatever was on his mind. _It’s an illusion and this is my sister._  
“That’s why I’ll get you out of here.”

Bucky had thought his next movements through very carefully. From the corner of his eye, he had spotted an old carpet that was covered by a thick layer of dust. _Perfect_.  
He grabbed it with his right arm and swung it through the air. The dust flew everywhere. The Remnant started to cough, to get away from the stuffy dryness of the air.  
Bucky used his little advantage and kicked the Remnant against the next wall. His body pressed into hers, well his own basically, but he made sure she couldn’t get away.  
Of course, she resisted and tried to get off the wall, but no, Bucky had her cornered and he wouldn’t let go. He twisted her right wrist so she was forced to release her weapon. Bucky grabbed the knife before it could fall. The blade was a little red, his own blood had turned sticky on it. He grabbed her other wrist, the solid metal wrist, in his own, and fixated it on the height of his thigh. His knee pressed her against the wall. She couldn’t escape him.  
Next, he put the blade to her throat.  
“One wrong move and the knife is _in_ your throat”, he warned. Something unexpected happened right then. Instead of answering, Becca used her pointer finger to tap a rhythm into Bucky’s skin. At first, he didn’t realize, but his brain determined it to be Morse. It deciphered the code right away.  
“ _You wouldn’t hurt me._ ”  
The second Bucky smiled about the familiarity in their communication, his imitator’s face - his own face- turned back into a woman’s. Into a softer version of his own, he realized. Even their skin tone was almost the same. But he hated this expression on her face. This expression of dominance. Like she still had the upper hand, even though she was squished between him and the wall with no chance of getting away. He hated that she wasn’t afraid of him at all, even when he held a knife to her throat. Just then, a memory tugged on his mind and he realized they’d stood in this exact position various times before, in training, during missions, whenever something had triggered his memory. She wasn’t afraid because this proximity was normal. Bucky tried to keep his expression straight and menacing.  
“Why not?”  
“Because if you did, your Steve would die.” Her blue eyes wandered to a figure behind Bucky.  
Bucky followed her gaze and froze.  
A tall man in a uniform stood over Steve and held a gun to his temple. Bucky recognized the man, they had met in Wakanda. He was the head of their secret intelligence apparatus. Mr. Lomawu. _An ally._   
“Hello, Sergeant. Good to see you again.”

All of the sudden, Bucky felt an overwhelming weakness overcome him like someone pressed him to his knees. His body didn’t hold him anymore, no matter how hard he clung to the Remnant right in front of him. _No! What was going on? What did they do?_  
Bucky frantically searched his body for hidden drugs, for any sign of an administered sedative, but nothing. When he sent a look to Steve and that Wakandan traitor, he realized Mr. Lomawu was holding something familiar in his hand. A little blue music player. And only then Bucky noticed the melody that was coursing through the room. A piano played a soft line of chords, accompanied by a lonely violin and a harp that gave the melody the nostalgic touch of a lullaby. In his head, the music sounded like honey, sweet and thick and Bucky could feel a stickiness invading his memories and thoughts. Thinking became so much harder in an instant, almost … impossible. His thoughts began to echo, fading into a black hole. He whined.  
 _Why? What is going… was going on? Come… on, B…Bucky, fight it. You…you can st…st…still win… you…y…_  
“See, soldier? Just like your friend down here, you cannot get rid of us. But for you, that’s because this”, he pointed at the chair and Bucky just nodded slowly, but wasn’t sure if he could really comprehend any of the words the man had just said, “this is what you are. Your fate. Your destiny. You’re our Winter Soldier.”  
The man waited, watching the brunet fall apart from the inside out. Bucky only heard _Winter Soldier_ echo through his head over and over. He couldn’t move. He just wished for the man to stop. But the voice started to speak again.  
“Behold, your summer has passed. May the world see your true face again.”

With a nod, the man ordered the Remnant to carry, or rather, drag the brunet, who still tried to fight the lure of the soft tunes that absorbed his mind, towards the wiping chair. She looked at him. Conditioning was the cause of his mental state at this moment. The melody affected him greatly, she’d seen the Soldier like this before. Many more things could affect him to a certain degree, but this was one of their handlers’ favorites for him. Because it worked faster than a number of the other methods, she guessed. Because all force left him, the melody turned this unpredictable assassin into a harmless puppet.  
The Remnant fixated his wrists and shins and stepped away from the chair. She then walked over to fulfill her next order: chaining up _target: Captain America_ to the big pillar in the middle of the room. The cuffs clicked and she nodded, earning a “well done, soldier” from her handler.  
Mr. Lomawu turned the music off to call in the two scientists he’d brought with him. They carried all that was necessary for this very quick and very unprotocol-like wiping.  
One of them quickly inserted a sterile cannula into the main vein in the Asset’s forearm, the other pulled out a special repair kit to fix anything out of order in the metal arm. They must’ve had forgotten or overlooked the earpiece still sitting in Bucky’s ear, because all of a sudden, Sam’s voice called through it and ripped Barnes from his confusion.

The soldier lashed out immediately, panic directing his every limb. He felt the chair, he _knew_ what was happening. The metal arm swung and a loud crack sounded through the room when it connected with the scientist’s head. The skinny man slumped together. Blood spilled on the ground. But the Asset wasn’t done yet, he wasn’t free yet, he needed to get out, get away and he needed to right now.  
The Remnant sped over in an instant. She held the thrashing man’s legs down and growled at him as menacingly as she could. He just stared at her. Then, with his metal hand, Bucky slapped her face as hard as possible. Crushed the side that was already bleeding. The force slammed her to the side, but she held on with an iron grip. Panic, fear, and anger mixed into a lunatic’s potion and Bucky hit her cheek again and again. The furious soldier didn’t see any people anymore, it was all a blur, he just knew he would destroy what was in his way. He was breathing in hard gasps. Another hit to bloody flesh wound that had been a cheek once. He could already see the Remnant’s cheekbone behind the raw, peeling flesh. Blood pooled in his lap. Soaked his pants.  
Still, the Remnant held on. Her grip was like steel and Bucky felt something sharp ripping into his legs. He didn’t care. The burning didn’t stop him from trying to escape. An elbow hit his nose like a hammer and Bucky heard a crunch. He gasped, hesitated. A second too long, because the second scientist pressed a needle into the Asset’s bulging veins with all his might.   
Finally, the wide-eyed brunet in the chair calmed down, thanks to the overwhelming rush of a dozen sedatives. The Asset’s eyes fluttered and everyone in the room tried to get their breaths back under control.  
This incident had cost them one scientist and precious time.

Mr. Lomawu stepped forward, pleased to see the Asset subdued. He had hoped for a quicker, less chaotic situation, but a glance at his watch told him that they were still operating in their timeframe. _Excellent._  
“Sergeant”, he started. “Why do you struggle? You will arise stronger, without fear and with a purpose. Are you really considering to let the world haunt you any further?”  
Bucky was weak, but he felt like his thoughts were coming back to him. And even if all he had left was a whisper, he felt he needed to say these words. Just for the sake of having said them. He wished Steve could hear him.   
“I’m more than that puppet behind the mask. It took them twenty years to get me there the first time, do you really think you can do this in half an hour now? Erase the past three years?”  
Bucky forced a grin that was supposed to help sell his bluff. He knew he failed when Lomawu’s smile didn’t cease from the man’s dark lips. He suddenly felt tiny in this cold chair that would fry his brain in a few moments. He prayed he could stall the wiping, though. Not so much for his own good, but at least until Steve woke up. Little Steve, who carried the hope of the whole team, of the entirety of America’s secret agencies on his shoulders. _And they didn’t even know it yet._  
“The world only sees the mask and the guns. The explosions and the corpses in your wake. It’s time to return to the truth, soldier. Your mission-“, Lomawu already had his finger on the buttons and the scientist held the regulatory mouthpiece before Bucky’s tear-stained face, but the brunet interrupted him, desperation flooding his body. _One thought, one question._  
“Why did Hydra take her?”, he whispered, motioning over to the Remnant.  
“ _They_? Oh Sergeant, don’t you remember? That was you alone.”

Steve woke up and he was scared. Not because of the pain that ignited certain spots of his body as if they were on fire. Not even because of the firm steel cuffs that wrapped around his wrists in a grip too tight for a person with healthy physical abilities. Not the blood that stained the thick layer of dust around his feet, blood that hopefully wasn’t his own. _No._ Steve usually thought himself a pretty bold guy, without much fear, he’d overcome his fears a lot of times by now, but right now, Steve was _scared_.   
It wasn’t something, it was the absence of something, or rather, someone, that put him into this state. He’d woken up without Bucky next to him. And in a basement Zola was in, the mastermind behind all Hydra cruelty, a missing person could mean a lot, but only bad things.

Steve’s cautious eyes told him details about the moments that had passed while he was gone, before the world had turned black in his eyes. Besides the not unsuspicious amount of blood on the floor, he noticed a dent in one of these walls, a broken flashlight somewhere on his right and wood in splinters and sharp remains. Even a knife lay on the ground, but too far away for Steve to grab. The blonde could also spot the machine he’d tried to destroy earlier, but it still looked exactly the same as before, which somehow caused new hope to bloom in the Captain’s chest. Maybe they still had a chance. Maybe Zola hadn’t succeeded.  
He smiled, recalling knowledge that Hydra might not have won. As he’d mentioned, a transfer of consciousness was something that - despite its rarity - the old soldier had witnessed before (and that he had added to his growing list of things that made him wonder what humans were not capable of). To his surprise, it had worked, but only with the help of his mighty friend from the vast lands of space, the only man (thankfully), who could wield lightning. He prayed Hydra hadn’t corrupted Thor.

Quiet whispers from the other side of the room reached Steve’s ear. He could not make out anything except a determined “Go again”. A shiver crept up Steve’s spine because he had not expected to hear that voice right here, in this basement. Mr. Lomawu. _Why was he here? Had Bucky’s suspicion been true, the one that he’d mentioned back in the car? That the Wakandan was Hydra? But how?_  
The questions circling in the Captain’s head were quickly put to an end when someone started to scream. Loud whirring echoed through the room and something muffled the sound, but after a second Steve was very sure. The screams sounded raw and husky, worn out, but the agony behind the screams, he’d heard it before, one damn time. Steve’s stomach revolted and nausea occupied every thought of the blonde’s mind. _Bucky. What were they doing to him?_ He wanted to scream himself, but his throat remained silent. Steve was out of words. So he just listened and prayed the same prayer over and over again. _Please, let them stop. Let it all stop._  
The screams were relentless. Steve was sure he would not get them out of his head for weeks. They’d haunt him in his dreams, they’d press him to his knees and make him wake up covered in sweat. Steve knew that. He’d heard his best friend scream once before.  
Back then, the brunet had been falling, out of Steve’s grasp and into the unknown. Steve was not sure if there was a difference, really, between back then and now. He just prayed that this time, he could stop this horror somehow.  
A thought occurred to him. A quick look through the room told him that indeed, just like he’d hoped so desperately, his other friend, Sam, was still somewhere else, maybe awaiting a command.  
“Sam?” Steve didn’t hear a direct reply, so he repeated the call.  
“Sam, do you copy? Can you hear me? Sam?”

A door opened, Steve could hear that much through the screams. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to endure them without doing anything. It pained him greatly to witness this loss. He couldn’t quite bring himself to send a look towards that chair that his friend had pointed out to him when they entered this room. Back then, it had caused images to rise to his mind, but he’d pushed them away. Now, those exact images reappeared, only they were tangible.   
It was all real, and Bucky was half naked, sticky with sweat and dried blood and in a reclined position. His arms and legs were as fixated as his head and Steve swore he’d trash this machine the first second he’d get the chance to.  
He forced his eyes off his friend, against the will of his heart that urged him to take part of this suffering onto his own shoulders, to bear it together with his best friend. But a person entered the room, a female, the Remnant, Bucky’s twin, and she dragged in a man with a lifeless body and a little, taunting dart sticking out of his right thigh. _Sam._  
Steve hit his head against the pillar he was tied to. Dammit, he cursed inwardly. He had led all his friends into the lion’s den and hadn’t even seen the lioness roaring at him. Because of him, Bucky who had trusted him deepest was again turned into a helpless, dangling puppet to Steve’s enemy, the one Steve had thought dead long ago. And because of him, the other friend, Sam, was lying in the dust, with broken wings and chained up hands. He, as well, had put his faith into Steve, had believed in his promises and would now pay for that. Steve closed his eyes. Maybe those screams that made him want to rip his ears off and his eyes out were his payment. _The torture he deserved._

Suddenly, legs appeared in his line of vision.  
“Awake to see all the fun, hm”, the man in the uniform, the traitor, Lomawu said. The Remnant remained quiet in the background. Steve guessed she had no orders right now.  
“You’re a traitor”, Steve replied, using what power he had left. The power of truth. “You abandoned your king and your nation. T’Challa will be on your heels forever.”  
The man seemed to dislike that notion. His face pulled into a snarl.  
“Wrong. Wakanda abandoned _me_. This is _their_ fault, turning away their own people. They should not ask why the outcasts are repaying the favor now. T’Challa is only as good as everyone else. He’s not worthy of the Panther’s mantle, yet he took it without hesitation. Who is left out there without the fault of straying from their destiny?”  
Steve didn’t care for the poetic rambling, but he could sense the pain in the man’s eyes. Lomawu had been hurt, he had been left and now, those emotions had turned into an avalanche that would bury the whole valley at the foot of the mountain.  
“Hydra will never return to what it was”, Steve stated. Zola would not come out of this machine as another person, but Lomawu didn’t know that yet. Steve did _._  
“No, the past cannot return to us no matter how badly our hearts ache for it”, Lomawu nodded. Bucky was still screaming, but the noises of his throat had turned hoarse by now. It raised the hairs on Steve’s arms even higher.  
“But the future, oh, what a lovely garden full of opportunities”, Lomawu smiled. “Hydra will rise again, Captain Rogers.” He sent a look to his watch. “In only a few minutes, Dr. Zola will awaken.”  
Bucky’s screams had subsided now, an eerie silence hung in the air after Mr. Lomawu’s last words. Steve was bold enough to break it.  
“He won’t. You’d need a bolt of lightning for him to rise. And here you are, standing in a basement.”  
“I do admire your wit, Captain. But you have not been as perceptive as usual. Besides Dr. Zola’s wishes, I have chosen this museum for its exhibition. Did you know that this is the only place in Germany that can create artificial lightning? We are standing right underneath the high voltage demonstration. 1.2 Million Volts will be more than sufficient to do the job.”  
Steve’s heart sunk to the ground right then. Every advantage he’d believed to have in his hands had vanished in the blink of an eye.  
Suddenly, another pair of legs entered his sight. They were clad in a highly durable pair of combat pants. On top of these legs sat the torso and the head of his best friend.  
“Bucky!”, Steve cried out in one uncontrollable wave of bursting desperation.  
But Bucky just stood there, eyes fixed on the tall Wakandan man, his posture that of a tense soldier. As if he hadn’t even heard the voice of the man in chains.  
“Ready to comply”, the brunet stated with in an emotionless voice, never losing his focus or his posture.  
“Good”, the Lomawu said and gave a nod towards the Remnant, who stuffed a gag into the protesting blond’s mouth.   
“Sergeant. Protect Dr. Zola at all costs. The world’s safety is in his hands. Eliminate any opposition. You’re going to bring the world closer to peace, soldier. But first, give him a good view on Project Awakening.”

The soldier nodded, with that cold expression on his face that started a deep seething hate inside of Steve but turned towards the Remnant first. She held a mask in her hands, the same one covering her face, and he took it, still not doing what Steve was hoping for so foolishly; that he would just use his metal arm to punch Lomawu and Rebecca unconscious and get Steve and Sam out of here.  
Instead, the Asset approached Steve and with a rather tight grip and harsh shove, pushed him up onto his feet. Steve almost stumbled, his legs rather prickly after his static position, but the assassin beside him didn’t seem to care. He stood, tense and body pointing at the machine. Steve tried to wriggle this gag out of his mouth, but it didn’t move much. When it did, due to all the Captain’s efforts, he turned his head towards his friend.  
“Bucky?”  
For that, he received a hard slap in the face, one laced with metal, one that wasn’t enough to shut him up. _Never if it’s the truth I gotta say._  
“Bucky, listen. I’m with you t-”, another slap and a thick, bloody lip for the blonde.  
The metal hand shoved the gag back into his mouth and those clear blue eyes spoke of warnings and violence. This was the most murderous glare Steve had seen. He could’ve cried right then, but his mind wouldn’t let him alone in that moment. It still tried to generate just any idea that would lead to escape and freedom.   
But all Steve felt, standing there in the brooding coldness of the Winter Soldier’s grip that had meant death to so many men before, was this unending guilt. He knew it was his fault Bucky had screamed so desperately. He knew it was his fault that Lomawu had won and that Zola would arise.

A little beep ripped him from his thoughts. Right then, one of the cables in the room lit up with a white kind of fire, an electric impulse that moved from the ceiling towards the machine standing to their left. Steve didn’t know what to do, but he something had to be done, so he just threw himself to the side.  
The Soldier was as strong as an ox himself but hadn’t expected the sudden, strong pull. For a second, his grip loosened, but he kneed the blond troublemaker in the genitals, earned a deep groan and re-established his firm grip on the captive.  
The air smelled like burnt plastic and rubber now, but suddenly, the dazzling white light was gone and another beep sounded in a repeating pattern and decreasing intervals.  
Steve helplessly watched Lomawu go and open the glass door of this machine that silently bore the mark of a friend. _Stark Industries._  
A woman stepped out of the tube, much to Steve’s surprise, and took in her surroundings. When her gaze fell upon Steve, his skin tingled suspiciously and he felt a shiver invading his entire back.  
“Steven Grant Rogers”, she said with a melodic voice, but Steve could only look at her eyes. He saw so much more in them than merely their brown irises. In a very unexplainable way, he felt like staring right into another person’s soul. Into a - an old man’s old soul, both burdened and lifted by the corpses of a million people. It didn’t matter that Zola was wrapped into this new body, with dark skin and a kind face, Steve recognized the presence of that small man with his round glasses, the man he’d met around eighty years ago.  
“What a surprise to meet you again. I see you took good care of my yet greatest achievement, Captain. How is Natalia doing?”  
Steve only grumbled, rather grateful for his gag that prevented him from saying anything.  
“Your steadfastness is admirable, Captain. Dr. Erskine was an intelligent man. Maybe choosing you saved all of Hydra. He and that British officer thought you a good man”, she paused, stepping one step closer to put her hands on the Captain’s wide shoulders, which disgusted him, “but we both know you’re as broken as it gets.”  
He shook Zola off with a deep glare. She smiled and turned towards Mr. Lomawu.  
“Well done, my friend. I suspect Miss Maximoff and Mr. Lang are still awaiting us along with my CIA task force?”  
“Yes. Neesa Dhawan needed to get some peace after her friend and superior Janet Henderson was shot in the office yesterday. All fingers still point at the Black Widow for committing the murder, no one suspects the Remnant to have a hand in this. She still is a mere shadow in the wide dark of the night.”  
“I am glad we could prevent her from spilling all this intel she gathered about us like you had assumed. I can access Neesa’s mind. She and her friend Janet had it all figured out. London, Cologne, Munich, even Miami. But they still hadn’t dared to connect those dots. What about Mr. Whittaker?”  
“Colin is not on our side anymore, apparently the loss of his sister has hit him deeper than we assumed. He will, however, still cooperate with me as his friend.”  
“Hydra is grateful for your sacrifices, Lawrence.”  
“Thank you, Dr. Zola. I expect Neesa to be honored and given full responsibility for the task force unit. As she will step into Mrs. Henderson’s shoes, the unit is yours. The world expects Hydra to be dead. It will never suspect us to return with such a boldness as to take over their intelligence agencies.”

The woman with the dark hair nodded and signaled for the Asset to put the blond soldier back down to where he had sat before. Back into the dust of a basement where the world didn’t hide any treasures. _Until now._  
“Our last conversation was ended quite abruptly, but I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time later”, the woman said to the Captain, who didn’t comply with the pressure applied to his body. In a split second, he decided to go all or nothing. He kicked the Winter Soldier’s legs away and jumped back up, dodging a punch, but delivering a hard kick to Zola’s chest. The female figure stumbled backward. A body rushed between them. The next moment, a metal hand pressed into Steve’s throat. Also, Steve’s feet were dangling inches above the ground. Never had someone lifted him up with such ease as the Asset did now.  
“You are lucky, Captain”, Zola said, giving a signal for Bucky to let Steve down. “Your precious blood saves you, but you need to understand that even you are not able to save everyone. We will come back for you, don’t worry. Until then, I need you to stay still.”  
Steve shook his head, _no_. Even if the world wouldn’t believe him if he released all these secrets about Zola, he’d tell them again and again. They would believe. They had to. Captain America didn’t lie. And he never gave up. Not when it was his fault that this happened. He swore to himself that he would make it up.  
“Well, it seems you just need the right motivation, Captain. Just know that your friends are in my hand.”  
The woman sent a nod towards the Remnant, who stood behind Steve’s back. Suddenly, a shot rang through the air and the boom made Steve feel dizzy. He noticed the four figures leaving the room. Only one thought jumped to his mind.  
 _Sam!_

Steve couldn’t turn around much or wriggle free, but enough to catch the blood on Sam’s chest. The bullet had ripped a hole into the Falcon’s shoulder and blood oozed over the straps of his exosuit. The whole front of his shirt was soaked after a few minutes. For a moment, Steve couldn’t tell if his friend was conscious or even alive. The blonde struggled with his gag for a few minutes, but eventually, it gave way.  
“Sam?”, he croaked and received a groan that was more or less encouraging, given the situation. _Crap. Well._ At least, Sam was alive. But Steve knew very well how bullet wounds worked: the bullet would go in, tear through flesh and tendons and exit on the other side, ripping an even bigger hole there. Steve prayed the bullet was still stuck in Sam’s shoulder. Without any emergency kit, Sam would be best off with the bullet locked in the flesh, where it would block the blood flow.   
Rogers did a couple of calculations, but he came back to the same estimation every time: he guessed that, considered the amount of blood on the floor and on the gray shirt Sam wore, the injured man would still have about half an hour before bleeding out. If there was no exit wound. And only if Steve could not find a way to get out of these damn chains. His shoulders slumped. This was never supposed to happen. Bucky and him, they had been so close to finally being unchained.

He turned his body around, sitting on his knees. Sadly, there weren’t that many options. The first idea to cross Steve’s mind was one involving a lot of luck and energy. _Just pull these damn chains out of the wall. How deep can they be anchored in that pillar?_   
Upon investigation, Steve discovered that no, the chains weren’t even anchored in the stone of the pillar, but merely wound around it. He was basically tied to himself. Sure, he could pull forward and break the pillar with it. But breaking the ceiling and hurting all the people standing in the museum right above him was a risk Steve couldn’t take. Innocent people. The blonde scratched that option off his list without hesitation.   
Instead, he started looking around for tools. All he could find was his broken flashlight and Bucky’s knife, but the latter was too far away to snatch and definitely not sterile. Steve really didn’t want to do more damage to Sam’s body. But he couldn’t just wait for his friend to die or Zola to get back. Helplessness crashed over Steve like a storm captivating a fisher boat on the open sea, throwing him around until nausea made him taste his bile in his mouth. When he sought shelter in the darkness behind his eyelids, his mind bombarded him with bolts of blazing lightning, each enough to scorch his heart. _What if Zola planned on turning Sam into another asset, like Bucky? What if all they needed was Steve’s blood?_ And now they had it, he was sitting in their trap. _Helpless_. Zola had mentioned Wanda and Scott. He knew about them. _What if Zola contacted them, to come and save Steve? Would they understand what was going on? What if they fell for it? What if Zola would use them? Could they stop Zola if they wanted to?_ _What if Steve himself would return to experimentation in the labs of scientists? Would Tony come and save him?_ Tony was so vulnerable. _What if…?_  
Steve was so occupied with the dark shredding his mind that he didn’t notice how his friend croaked the blond’s name.  
“Steve…”  
His head whipped around. Sam? _Was he okay? Was he…?_  
“Steve…”  
“Yeah, Sam. Are you alright? Just hold on, okay, just-”  
“Steve, I’m sorry.”  
“Nah, buddy, it’s fine. Whatever it is, you can tell me when we’re out of this. I just need to, um, find a way and-”  
Steve rambled on until Sam cried out.  
“Steve! Listen, man. I’m sorry, but you gotta let me tell you why I want to apologize! This is not how it works, okay? I know this isn’t a film, but I’m the one potentially dying and you have to listen to me or you’ll regret it until you’re old and wrinkly.”  
Steve wasn’t sure how Sam did it, but he felt the darkness fade the more his friend spoke.  
“Wrinkly? I’ve crossed the 90 already, pal. I think I’m too old for wrinkles now”, Steve watched Sam grin weakly, “But please, pour your heart out.”  
Sam smiled weakly.  
“I’m sorry, Cap. I disobeyed your orders. I trust you and support you as a team member. But I’m also your friend and friends don’t give each other orders. They give advice.”  
“What did you do?”  
“I called Tasha.”


	16. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: R.E.F. (Warrior’s Lullaby) by Zack Hemsey; Redemption by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _  
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

  

Natasha came. She came with a look on her face that didn’t say anything, but when she was done taking care of Sam, who just groaned and whined a lot, she walked over to Steve. The blond wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but her face didn’t spoil any information regarding her thoughts or her emotions. Another weight weighed heavy on Steve’s shoulders - having left a teammate back, even if his reasons were justified. It shouldn’t have happened. After his fight with Tony, Steve had sworn to himself to never leave a teammate behind again. And yet, one assumption had arisen, suggesting Natasha might be working for Hydra or someone bad and Steve had fallen for the trick. He was ashamed.

And this unintelligibility radiating off Natasha just made it worse - Steve felt she punished him by pulling away every feature he normally used to read her. Her body language - silent. Her eyes - silent. Her hands - silent. She didn’t say anything and Steve had never been so irritated by the Russian before. For moments, he considered confronting her, but then he remembered how she had reacted the last time he’d done that. He frustratedly sucked in a breath of air. The redhead didn’t react to it. Steve didn’t have any words anyway. So he agreed to her silence.  
When Natasha didn’t get the cuffs off his hands, Steve nodded, grateful for a topic that could start a conversation.  
“They won’t go off. I’ve tried. Just go and get Zola and Lomawu. They-”  
Natasha shook her head.  
“I’m not leaving you back, Steve. We can only get this done together. And that is the whole truth.”  
With those words, she left the blond. Speechless, Steve sat on the cold ground of that basement. Natasha had promised she wouldn’t leave him. Like he had promised to not leave her. And done it anyway. Steve shuddered. She must’ve felt shaken, to be betrayed by him like that. But even if she hated him, Steve hated himself more for what he’d done. If she really would come back, how could he ever apologize for breaking their trust - and quite possibly their friendship?

Only a few minutes later, the Russian returned, with a glass full of a swishing liquid in her hands.  
“Why wasting our energy”, she finally smiled at him, “when there is a huge museum with tons of chemical substances right above us?”  
With exemplary care and petite fingers, Natasha poured some liquid - probably acid - onto the chains and set a chemical reaction in motion that freed Steve’s hands from those unnerving cuffs holding him captive. When the blond’s bare skin came into vision, it looked scarred and bloody.  
“Don’t worry”, Steve waved it off, “I’ll be fine. We should really get going, though. What do we do with him?”  
“I’ve got that covered”, Natasha promised. “Rogers. There’s one thing. Whatever I do, I need you to trust me to do the right thing.”  
Steve’s heart did a little jump. Natasha offered him a second chance. Just like that. Without hesitating. Without listening to any of his apologies or whatever. _She knows what it’s like to make the hard call._ Steve cleared his throat. Natasha was on his side and he wouldn’t mess it all up this time.  
“You were the only thing that Zola and Lomawu couldn’t anticipate in their plan. You’re our ace. I got your back.”  
With that, the two of them ran.

* * *

Natasha texted Clint mid-way. Steve and she had lost the way, whatever the way really was. Basically, the Russian was running and Steve just trying to follow and spot any possible ambushes or even enemy forces, but so far everything looked clear. He couldn’t afford to care about pedestrians right now. At least he was still in normal clothes. Those didn’t draw as much attention as Natasha’s dark suit.  
Clint wrote: _The Remnant is here. Hurry up or you’ll - Wanda! - just hurry! The hospital is close. Run north now._  
His face hurt like hell, from that hit he’d taken from Bucky’s metal hand, but he didn’t tell Natasha that. Or about his neck, or his ear. She worried about enough things right now. He mustered her face that lit up when that hospital Clint was texting about came into sight, still way ahead of them. He wondered if she thought about Bucky. The image of the two Soviet spies snuggled up next to each other in that bed in Cologne reappeared in his mind. Maybe they were a couple and no one knew.  
More thoughts found their way through the supersoldier’s mind and he let them. Hopefully, his friends could have a life after this, he tried to imagine it. Bucky and Natasha. She let the brunet so close so fast. Steve smiled.  
Then, he noticed the eight level of the empty, abandoned hospital the looked like it was from the 50s. A window clinked loudly and then crashed. Someone’s head looked out of the hole, then an arrow flew past it.  
Steve’s forehead was in wrinkles.  
“What is it, Steve? What plan are you cooking up right now?”  
“How does Clint text while he’s fighting? I just can’t… picture it.”  
Natasha just stared at the blonde, as if he was the most bizarre person on the planet. Maybe he was. He shrugged.  
“He uses the speech-to-text function, Steve.”  
“Ha! So that’s how _you_ text me while driving.”  
Natasha grimaced.  
“You’re too precious for this world, golden boy. Make sure to stay alive in the battle ahead!”  
In shock, Steve noticed the helicopter on the roof of the hospital. The rotators began to move right then and two persons were entering it. A woman and a man, from what Steve could tell. _Zola and Lomawu._  
“Nat! Can you hit them?”  
She checked her handguns and shook her head. Their ranges were too short.  
“Didn’t bring my rifle. Sorry, Rogers.”  
Steve kicked a stone in disappointment. _They were too late_. But the fight seemed to continue on the inside. A scream reached Steve’s ears and he sped up.

The two of them sprinted up the staircases, perfectly warmed up when lunging into the fight. One thing Steve noticed immediately was how narrow the old hospital’s hallways were. He spotted dents and arrow shafts stuck in walls and scattered over the floor. A strong draft greeted them, proving what a wreck this building really was.  
Right now, Scott and what looked like an invasion of ants were attacked by the Remnant. Clint, however, tried to protect himself from the Winter Soldier. Wanda was the down, on the floor. She’d been hit. Steve ran towards the other end of the hallway, where the young girl tried to get back up. She struggled. Suddenly, a wall shattered, blocking his way. A person appeared in-between the debris. A growling person. With a knife. And a mask. And a blood covered face. The Remnant. Steve looked at her, quickly taking a defensive stance. Now he yearned for his suit.

The brunette woman was about to pounce on him when someone lunged at her from behind. Scott. More than brave, he pulled her hair. She hissed loudly and a shiver ran down Steve’s spine. She turned to Scott, kicking his legs away. He landed on his back and she jumped onto him. He was fast. He almost managed to tap his suit to make him shrink. But boy, she was much faster. In one move, she had both Scott’s arms pinned to the linoleum floor. Then, she did something Steve didn’t expect at all. A strange, low whistle rose over the fighting noise. It took a second to be returned.  
Natasha yelled something in the background. Steve didn’t pay attention. His eyes shot back and forth between Scott and Wanda. If he made a run for her- someone shoved him from behind. Barton fell right into him, stumbling. His cheek was bleeding. His bow was broken. The Winter Soldier charged at the two men and Steve grabbed stones from the broken wall. The Asset dodged and smashed every single one.  
“Bucky! Just-”, Steve screamed, but his friend didn’t listen at all. When Steve touched him, a knife slashed over his arm and a gun appeared. Steve kicked the handgun out of the Winter Soldier’s grasp. When he looked back up, Bucky was already on his way to re-engage with Barton.  
Screams came from the room next to Steve. The Remnant, Rebecca, had broken Scott’s forearm. A bone was unglamorously sticking out of it. His shrinking device was completely crushed. A knife gleamed in the Remnant’s hand. Blood ran over her fingers. Three deep cuts opened up Lang’s thigh. His flesh was torn to shredded.  
At that sight, Steve’s blood turned boiling hot. He scrambled to his feet, ran into the room and opened the door to smash the Remnant off Scott. She jumped back to her feet instantly.  
But Steve just pushed the next best thing, a hospital bed, and slammed it forwards. Then, he pulled the Remnant into his strong grasp. Something pinched his leg. Darts. The poisoned ones. He didn’t care. He just ran, anger had taken control.  
Steve crashed his victim against the next wall. Her suit collided with the stone roughly. Her mask fell, but Steve had to watch with shock how her arm turned _metal_ from once second to another. _How did she do that!?_ In battle’s defiance, he kicked her arm, making it slam against the worn out wall. The stones broke with a nasty crunch and she fell through it. Only then Steve realized it was the outside wall.  
Only then Steve realized it was the outside wall. _Shit_. _He’d just thrown Bucky’s sister off the eighth story._ When he put his head outside the hole, there was no body on the pavement. No blood. Nothing. Steve couldn’t see anyone. _Where had she gone in that one second?_

Inside, someone gagged. Steve ran back. The Winter Soldier closed his hands around Wanda’s throat. But he stood so far away. Between Steve and him was half the hallway and a rapidly increasing pool of blood around Scott.  _If Steve just had his shield!_  Next, Steve’s hands grabbed whatever was around him and made a metal table whiz through the air, thumping right against Bucky’s chest. The brainwashed soldier opened his hands enough to have Wanda slip away. Clint tried his best but didn’t succeed at kicking the Winter Soldier. They fought a quick and intense hand-to-hand combat, which resulted in nasty oomphs and cries.  
When Steve looked up from Scott the next time, Barton wriggled on the floor, in between Bucky’s legs. His jaw already looked blue and the rest of his face was smudged with blood.   
Steve’s attention was dragged away by a stinging in his leg. Another dart. And a third. Even a fourth before the blond realized where they came from. _From above._ From the hole in the ceiling. He could not jump away when a heavy-looking device crashed down. Steve kneeled over Scott’s unconscious body, caving in when the massive device plummeted onto his back. He couldn’t help but scream at the piercing pain. That definitely leave a huge mark on his back. The Remnant jumped through the hole in the ceiling, landing softly on her feet. Steve’s desperation grew.  
He wanted to run and help Clint. But if he left Lang, Rebecca would kill the unconscious Ant-man. He couldn’t do that. From the corner of his eye, Steve noticed Natasha coming in. Relief flooded his system. Natasha moved through the hallway, dodging debris like a dancer. A blade gleamed in her hand. The Remnant attacked Steve, using the distraction as advantage, and he huffed at the quick succession of punches being thrown at him. She knew his weak spots, he thought, she knew his every move. So he tried something else. Instead of punching her, he turned around, spotting exactly what he needed. A supply cabinet. Whatever was in there might save their lives. So he opened it, shuffled through the boxes. No medication but masks. Attached to cartridges spelling _N2O_. Laughing gas. _Perfect.  
_ When the Remnant rushed at him, Steve quickly grabbed her arm, pulling her down. With his leg digging into her back and holding her in place, he had one chance to pull this mask over her face. And it worked.  
Steve held her arms together, he squished Rebecca as the laughing gas filled her lungs. She squirmed under his grasp, but relaxed after a few seconds. Steve didn’t let go. He knew he couldn’t underestimate her. She was dangerous.  
Suddenly, a knife was plunged into his side. _How…?_ He stumbled in pain and the Remnant stood up. She grabbed this stick Steve had seen before, on her back. It whirled around in her hands. Steve was breathing heavily. Every hope he’d built up until now faded like it had been an illusion all along. The blond looked up. He wondered if his senses failed him or if his pain was just layering over them. He hadn’t even heard Natasha approaching. The Remnant fought with her now, the brunette’s stick creating a crescendo of cracks and slaps whenever she hit Natasha. The laughing gas didn’t seem to affect her at all. Steve got to his feet.  
His Ma’s words rushed through his mind. He could still see her in the white hospital bed. Most of the time, he pushed this memory away, but now it pressed into his mind with an unusual urgency. Her voice had been muffled through the breathing device on her face and her hands were covered in some kind of gloves. Steve still knew the rubbery feeling on his cheek when she’d caressed his face, when she had wiped his tears away.  _You will get through this. You’re stronger than this world, Steven. You’re an overcomer._ And then she fell into an endless pit of silence. And Steve had become what his Ma had always seen in him. Grief crossed his heart once more. But it birthed a decision, one he had made a hundred times before. _I’ll overcome this. Giving up isn’t in my options._

 

So Steve stemmed himself up, pulling the Remnant off a wide-eyed Natasha. Blood was smeared over the brunette’s face, probably from her nose. Her lips were cracked, too. Nat had collected a batch of scratch marks on her décolleté and throat. The Widow nodded at him and ran off.  
“Hold her there!”, she yelled at Steve but didn’t say anything else.  
But Steve couldn’t. The woman lunged at him and used a medical table to attack him out of the air. Right before she reached him, however, a red mist swirled around her figure. She hovered in the air. Steve triumphed on the inside. _Thank you, Wanda!_  
What happened in the next moments was too fast for Steve to understand right away. An arrow shot at the Remnant. She caught it before it could tear through her chest. Her arm turned silver. It deflected another arrow. Steve’s head whipped around in shock. Clint stood in the doorway, his broken bow fixed with medical tape. A third arrow was already in position. It made a chucking sound when it landed in Rebecca’s abdomen. Steve cursed.  
“Clint, stop! You’re killing her!”  
“Got my orders, Cap. T’Challa wants her dead.”  
“He- what!? Does he know she’s Bucky’s sister?” Clint lowered his bow, but the red mist still held the brainwashed assassin captive.  
“Are you kidding me!? How many more of your kind are there? Shit, I need a list”, Barton turned around to make eye contact with Wanda, “can you fix her mind?”  
Wanda hesitated, her fingers still spinning her scarlet veil.  
“I don’t kn- no. Not here at least, I - Oh, oh my god.” Her eyes had become huge and she covered her mouth in pure shock. Steve followed her gaze. 

On the other side of the room stood Natasha.  
She held a knife to Bucky’s throat.

Steve’s heart pounded heavy, pushed fear through his veins and cold sweat onto his skin. _Could he believe what he saw?_ He didn’t want to, but when the first drops of blood rolled over his best friend’s skin, he wasn’t sure he had a choice. Bucky’s hair was in Natasha’s fist, she pulled his head up to expose his throat. To cut through it. Blood dripped over the silver blade. Steve recognized it as one of Bucky’s. But Steve was frozen in his spot. _What was he supposed to do? What was Natasha doing? Would words be strong enough to pull Natasha out of whatever had stolen her sanity? Would she really kill him?_ She used to call him _Yasha_ , with the sweet undertone of a deep-rooted love. Steve hesitated. _Was it another lie? A trick?_  
Clint shot a worried look at Steve. Wanda still held the Remnant back, but she was distracted too. Scott just continued to bleed out onto the floor, ants gathering around his unconscious self.  
_I need you to trust me to do what is right._ This was as far from right as it could get. Steve wanted to cry. His body wanted to punch something. His heart felt like Natasha had pierced it with a stick. To roast it over a scorching fire.  
Clint grabbed Steve’s arm. _Do something_ , his eyes seemed to urge the super soldier. Thousands of words rung through Steve’s mind, but he didn’t know which ones to choose. He felt like every word was wrong. The Remnant growled from behind him.  
“What are you doing, Natasha!?” Steve’s voice cracked.  
“I’m putting an end to the fight. We need to destroy Hydra. And we know their weak spot. If they realize he’s dead…”  
_But what if their weak spot is also mine?_  
Steve mustered Bucky. His arms were lifeless, they were fixated behind his back somehow. His blue eyes were clear but pointed at the floor. Something with a handle was stuck in his side. Probably a knife. Suddenly, Steve noticed how Natasha’s necklace was missing, the one with the arrow. The one she never took off. Something wasn’t right.  
“This isn’t the right cho-”  
“Sometimes, you gotta make _a_ right choice, not the right one. You said that. This is my right choice, Rogers.” Natasha sent him a challenging, but cold look. Steve sucked in a deep breath. Yes. He’d said that. He regretted it now. But choices never applied to Bucky. With him, there was no choice. Steve still refused to believe Natasha was serious.  
“You can’t-” She dragged the knife further along his throat. Bucky winced. More blood. _To prove her point? To kill him?_  
“Nat, I beg you-”  
“You taught me about sacrifice, Steve. It hurts. But it needs to be done. I’m the Black Widow”, she said mechanically and repeated something like a mantra, “Remember. Execute. Forget.”  
It was another of these moments Steve realized he wasn’t trying to save two people from brainwashing and conditioning, but three.  
Then, Natasha cut into the flesh. Bucky gasped. 

In a fraction of a second, a knife shot into the spy’s shoulder. The Remnant sprang into action, ripping herself out of the control of a distracted Wanda. Natasha hit Bucky’s head full-force with her handgun and he collapsed to the ground. A dart dug into Natasha’s arm but stuck in her suit. Wanda ran over to Bucky and placed her hands on his cheeks. Red mist appeared around him.  
“Steve!”, Wanda yelled. “Grab her by the neck!”  
Natasha fought with the Remnant, trying to keep up with the brunette’s speed. The Remnant seemed furious, she kicked the Russian into her face and stabbed her a couple of times. Her metal arm crushed Natasha’s gun. The Russian seemed a little dizzy, too. Her right arm seemed limp.  
“Steve, now!”, Wanda yelled again. Steve moved and tried to grab the Remnant’s throat.  
“By the neck! Hold her up!”  
“Her neck will break!”  
“Just do it!”  
So he did. He grabbed Rebecca’s neck, channeled all his leftover power into a firm grip and lifted her off the ground. To his surprise, she went completely still from one moment to the next. Everything dropped from her hands. The blades clanked against the floor, the sound echoing through the room in this sudden silence. The Remnant just hung there, almost like someone had pulled the plug. Her eyes went around the room, scanning it. But she remained completely still. Steve was stunned. If he had known it was this easy to stop her…  
“How did you know, Wanda?” She smiled.  
“He did”, she pointed at Bucky, who was still out of it. Bucky’s memories had saved them.

“Finally”, Natasha breathed. “Thank God that stupid plan worked. Barton, help me find a supply cabinet.”  
The two of them rushed through the rooms and hallways. Steve was relieved when they could somehow stop the heavy blood flow that originated in Scott’s leg. The boiling rage at Natasha’s stunt with his best friend was still there, but he swallowed it. Now was not the time. Natasha approached him with bad news.  
“Scott lost a lot of blood. But I know we have reserves in the Quinjet you left Wakanda with.”  
That was terrible. Steve took a deep breath.  
“I parked it in France, Nat.”  
“I know. It should be here in a minute. I already alerted medical assistance. There will be a doctor on board.”  
Steve was very grateful when Wanda relieved his arm by taking the Remnant for him. Now, he built himself up before Natasha, the woman he once thought he could trust. He grabbed her elbow when she made a step back. She winced. Steve noted that her arm was broken, so he gently let go. But she would have to talk. Too many secrets stood between them.  
“What game are you playing here? What do you really want?”  
“Vacation. I guess that’ll have to wait, though. To save all your asses, ‘til then?”  
A police siren broke the deafening silence. Steve still didn’t know which words to use with the spy before him. The low rumbling of a Quinjet sent relief though every person in the room.  
“We should go”, Natasha said.  
“Where to? We can’t go back to Wakanda. We need to hide.”  
Natasha smiled kindly and pulled something out of her pocket. A key?  
“The director of SHIELD gave me this. We have full access to a hidden base in the Swiss Alps.”  
As expected, Steve wasn’t satisfied with that.  
“SHIELD, huh. And what flathead was bold enough to dig them out of that pile of rubble?”  
“Steve, I can’t tell-”  
“You can and you will. You owe us a lot, Natasha, and this is the least you can do.” _After almost cutting Bucky’s throat._  
Natasha nodded, her forehead wrinkled as if she was thinking hard which words to choose.  
“The director won’t appreciate it. His identity is more than highly confidential intel. His business with us is personal too, that’s why he insisted on contacting you himself.”  
“Who is it? Nat”, Steve’s voice sounded like a warning.  
“Coulson.”  
“Bullshit. He died on that helicarrier…”  
Natasha smiled, a smile that Steve had seen a couple of times before, in dark hallways and on airy rooftops. The smile that announced another trick by the Black Widow, one where she lured people into her net, making them see and believe something that was an illusion. It marked them as her victims.  
“Everyone dies at one point, Steve. Some just know how to turn it into a game.” The Captain stared at her, signaling the redhead to go on.  
“Sometimes, dying ensures survival. I’m a spy. Never wondered how I’m standing in front of you, alive, unharmed? In the Red Room, we practiced dying every day.”  
“You practiced lying.”  
“Death is just like me. One truth out of many. Whoever believes it is a fool.”  
With that, she turned around, announcing their way out of this place. 

It happened on the stairs. In just a couple of moments, fate, or more likely fatigue, decided to turn everything around. Wanda stumbled over some debris on the stairs and fell. At the same time, she let go of Rebecca, who had stayed completely focused the entire time, waiting for a split second of weakness like this one. The Remnant jumped, probably the one with the most power in her legs out of everyone, and disappeared in the ceiling.  
Steve groaned. He could’ve screamed at everyone and everything. She was gone. They’d lost her. Sam had been right.  _Their whole mission was a disaster._  
The police sirens sounded really close now.  
“Come on, guys, get going!”, Natasha encouraged, leading them all to the Quinjet on the roof. She knew they couldn’t waste any time here. The world was in the mood to welcome Steve Rogers and his friends back yet.

The police cars made their way through Munich’s terrible traffic and reached one of the city’s old abandoned buildings. The old hospital was the place civilians had reported.  
_Gun shots. Arrows. Red mist._  
A whole police squad entered the building, overly cautious and handguns raised. They were ready to shoot, to put their years of training into use.  
All they found, however, was a halfway collapsed eighth story and puddles of blood on the floor of an old, abandoned and decayed hospital.


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Choice: I Can Get It Back by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _  
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

  

##  _**Dawn** _

**_{Every day  
Every night _ **

**_A new sun_ **   
**_On the horizon_**   
**_Blood red_ **   
**_And with it_ **   
**_The glowing eyes_ **   
**_Of our enemies’_ **   
**_Wrath_ **

**_The future_ **   
**_Cannot be_**   
**_Worse_ **   
**_Than_ **   
**_The past_ **

**_Yet my heart_ **   
**_Fears_ **   
**_The new dawn_ **

**_When it is not_ **   
**_Day nor night_**   
**_And the wild beasts_ **   
**_Crawl into the open_ **

**_Hold me_ **   
**_Until it’s over_**   
**_In your heart_ **   
**_But_ **   
**_Release me_ **   
**_So I can_ **   
**_Deliver_ **   
**_The fatal blow_ **   
**_To slay_ **   
**_Whatever comes at us_ **

**_So when the moon_ **   
**_Falls_**   
**_And leaves behind_ **   
**_A silver net_ **   
**_Of stars_**   
**_We can say_ **

**_Dawn we conquered_ **   
**_We shall not_**   
**_Fear Dusk_ **   
**_Ever again}_ **

****

_The Team’s Reports_  
_11.12.2016_  
_(@wordsturnintostories)_


	18. After-Credits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! AN AFTER CREDIT SCENE. Hope you stayed, you loyal Marvel fans. I thought to myself, if you write Marvel, you gotta do it right. :D have fun, guys. Hope you like it.
> 
> Song Choice: See What I've Become by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _  
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

 

 

Being honest, Sam hadn’t expected any results to turn up, especially not so soon after leaving Munich and that pile of rubble that had been a modern hospital back in the 50s. The team had rushed into the Quinjet and taken care of Scott, who had nearly bled out. Thanks to Natasha, a doctor had awaited them on board, ready to save their friend. The secret base was a blessing. Finally, they could all tend to their wounds and get some rest. Bucky had recovered, after hiding himself away in his room for weeks, after nights of screaming and mornings with a metal hand around Steve’s neck.   
Being even more honest, Sam hadn’t expected Natasha to pull him out of bed in the middle of the night to get him aboard a plane to … Bulgaria? Or something in that direction.  
He wiped his eyes, still tired, pulling his Exosuit on before realizing he didn’t even wear a shirt yet. At least his wounds had healed, especially that nasty bullet wound in his shoulder. This base was equipped with perfect medical supplies. Sam was very grateful for his healing process.  Not being able to fly around anymore would’ve taken a big toll on him. It was the last thing he and Riley had done together.

Sam admired the Russian’s determination to find someone who had caused her so much pain and put her into a position where living turned into running, just because the girl meant so much to Barnes. Of course, also because it was Hydra. No one should endure what cruelty Hydra managed to apply. And he totally understood Natasha had been more than disappointed their time in Munich had not resulted in Zola’s death.  
But Sam still had his money on these two, Barnes and Romanoff. Steve had lost his ten bucks the moment the bet was settled. That day felt like ages ago now. Back then, they’d still sat around in Wakanda, trying to kill time.  
Multiple sources had confirmed Hydra activity in the destination region and Natasha wasn’t taking any chances.  
“Finding Barnes took us years because we were too cautious. Not this time”, she’d proclaimed in the mission briefing on the jet.  
So, they all went to Europe again. Sam really didn’t want to know how much Nat owed all her spy friends by now or how that favor thing worked, he was just gonna be glad when everything was over.  
Of course, however, he knew this mission was something special for Natasha in another sense. It was her shot at redemption, even if she didn’t call it that. She had messed up when she tricked Steve and even though he treated her with kindness, she, as well as everyone else, was aware of the fact that she needed to make up for holding a knife to James Buchanan Barnes’ throat. The earlier the better.

Steve already analyzed a blueprint of what looked like a warehouse. It didn’t give the impression of a fortress, but with Hydra in there, it probably was the same level of dangerous.  
Next to him sat Bucky, silently scribbling into his worn-out, yellow-edged journal, not looking up once. He’s been doing that a lot since he and Wanda started their sessions, Sam thought, good for him.  
The dim light above the seats created a gloomy atmosphere and proved how tired Sam really was. Since no one sought conversation, the former pararescue decided to rest some more.  
They landed and parked the jet outside the city, off-road and off-sight. Despite the thunderstorm roaring and lashing against the windows, everyone ignored the dark warnings the sky sent and jumped out of the vehicle. Just in time to see the first red of the morning peek through from behind the mountaintops on the horizon.  
Finding the warehouse was no problem in this city that couldn’t stand a comparison to the size of New York or even Berlin. Luckily, there was no traffic at this time either.  
That exact warehouse didn’t really distinguish itself from its neighborhood - shattered windows, sooty walls and loosened, but thick chains hanging from the ceilings. The mechanic cranes, now without use, were characteristic for this former heavy industry region.

When the three of them - Sam had already left to fly control rounds - stepped onto the muddy ground, nothing moved, everything was quiet except for the crackling of the rain. It was a little too quiet for Natasha’s taste, who had expected much more activity. Steve couldn’t make out any signs that screamed ambush, so he contacted Sam.  
“Any signs of enemy units?”  
“My heat camera doesn’t give me anything. Building’s unarmed. There is one signature, but it’s far from usual.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Body temperature very low, subject not on the move.”  
“Alright, we’re going in.”

The inside of the building looked as abandoned as the outside. No one had stepped into this building in a long time, at least not through the front door considering the thick layer of dust on the floor here. Now, water dropped softly from the three intruders, whose clothes were drenched.  
When Bucky turned on the flashlight, signs of past fights appeared. Bullets stuck in stone pillars, the indentations visible from a distance, implying guns heavier than simple handguns. Bucky even spotted indentations on the floor, edges smeared with brown tones that probably had been red once.  
A side entrance to the main hall captured the intruders’ attention. The door leaf was completely crooked, but still hanging on the hinges. Who- or whatever had unloaded its rage here, it was a force to be reckoned with. Steve wondered what they were really dealing with.  
He didn’t know it, but Natasha was thinking the same thing. _Had the Rem- Rebecca really done all of this?_  
In Steve’s memories, she’d always been a sweet girl with the gentlest fingers of all. She’d cleaned his bruises after his fight with Tom Honeycutt from across the street and all the others too, every time he came home with Bucky after school.  
There was no version of this universe that he could imagine Rebecca as an assassin like her brother. She hadn’t even been in the war. The facts just didn’t line up. _Was this a trap?_  
Leading away from that side door they found drag marks, guiding them deeper into the massive hall that was probably impossible to fill with warmth. No wonder Sam’s heat signature showed a cold body. Everyone would hibernate in here.

As soon as Steve’s eyes made out the lonely figure in the dark, he began running. Sam would’ve warned them of Hydra mercenaries by now, right? The way was clear and the others followed more or less hesitantly.  
When Steve came to a halt and stood in front of the Remnant, however, he wished he’d never seen this - image. He knew this could never be unseen by anyone. Tears welled in his eyes, silent tears he wanted no one to witness. Hydra had, once again, outdone themselves, but not Steve’s mind.  
Because in there, he’d seen something similar before. The worst possible outcome, just with a different body hanging in chains, one with a metal arm. A hundred nightmares.  
This one, this woman, had her head hanging so low that one could almost think she was dead. This place smelled bitter, of blood and urine and burnt flesh, but every time a cool breeze crept through the slits in the walls, a little more of the nauseating aroma got carried away.

A firm hand rested on Steve’s shoulder. Bucky appeared by his side, offering silent comfort although he should’ve been the one haunted by the sight. But he showed no signs of emotional distress. Before Hydra, he’d been good at shoving the outward manifestations of his feelings away.  
The sight - Hydra’s lethal asset and master thief chained up by both her wrists, with arms stretched out to the sides. Her only clothes were her combat pants and a shirt that had undoubtedly seen better days. The combat mask was missing; _they’ve stripped her to the essence_ , Steve thought bitterly.  
She resembled a dead person, but he’d never seen a corpse in a position like that. Not with the whole front unprotected, not with tight chains clawing into her flesh and her arms keeping the torso up to prevent a collapse.  
All the blood reminded the super soldier of his time at the army, when he’d rescued the 105th in Azzano and when they’d lost part of their division just behind Chambéry in Southern France.  
But her legs stood, stiff like pillars, just not as straight, holding her body up.  
The floor underneath her boots was damaged, showing cracks and more blood, dry like the blood covering her hands.

Bucky cautiously stepped around her. He examined her back. Natasha had already rushed by to see if their surroundings offered any intel or belongings left behind by Hydra.  
She returned with a harness of chains that was obviously meant for the woman and, judging by the multitude of red-brown stains, had been in use before. It made Bucky speak up.  
“It’s her.”  
Everyone turned to him.  
“She’s not my sister, but I know her.”  
_Not Rebecca_ , it echoed within Steve’s mind. Not his sister. _How?_  
He’d seen her face. Steve’s mind hadn’t been scrambled, instead his memories haunted him at night because they were so vivid he couldn’t tell them apart from reality. He saw Brooklyn in those nights, his Ma, their tiny apartment, the places he discovered with a 9-year old Bucky, spending time with his family, everything. In contrast to Bucky, he could trust his memories. _Right?_  
_If this woman wasn’t Rebecca, who was she?_  
“She looks the same”, Steve mumbled.  
“See her neck? Remember when I took a shot at our kitchen window and one of the shards hit her neck?”  
“With that old tin? I remember your Dad polished your ass for it. Twice.”  
“Yeah”, Bucky grinned sheepishly, “me too. But look, her scar’s missing. Also, our twin mole behind her ear isn’t there. Not her.”  
Natasha piped up, whispering like the others. A little necklace with an arrow hung from her hand. She must’ve found it somewhere.  
“And who is she instead?”  
“I don’t know her name. But this harness was hers. No one else needed it. They created her in Siberia, like us, must’ve been in the 60s. Back then, Belyakov called her хищник. Predator.”  
His blue eyes wandered over her body, calling memories to resurface. There was an expression on his face Steve couldn’t describe. His friend raised his eyebrows.  
“She shouldn’t be this still. She should’ve heard us from outside. Must be her second week.”  
“Second week?”  
“Hydra doesn’t abandon their soldiers. They bring them back to order. This”, he gestured around, “is standard procedure. Probably preparation for a wipe.”  
“Are you telling us she’s been hanging here for two damned weeks!?” Steve’s heart cramped.  
“At least two. She’s strong, makes it hard to break her. You smell the urine though, right?”  
“Man, I’m starting to feel sick and I can’t even smell it”, Sam mumbled through the comms.

It was probably Natasha’s fault that the dormant girl roared back to life. When hanging the harness back, she missed the hook and the chains clattered against the concrete floor.  
In an instant, the Remnant stirred. Steve’s skin prickled in response.  
Suddenly, he noticed the trail of dried up blood leading away from her. Behind a little flock of dust, his eyes spotted a tooth, half brown, half white. The trail led away from her. Steve swallowed hard. If they hadn’t taken her off her chains, it must’ve been someone else’s blood.  
A low, vibrating growl came from the woman’s chest and rumbled back from the walls, echoing tenfold. When her head lifted, Steve heard Bucky take in a sharp breath. Hydra had taken her mask, but left her with a dog’s muzzle. The muzzle didn’t cover the fleshy scars running over her cheek and onto her neck. It didn’t hide the dried blood plastered onto her skin, under the nose and her head wound. There was more on her chin and throat. Even her short brown hair had blood sticking to it. She _did_ look like the Winter Soldier now, thanks to the trim by Steve’s hand. It left a downright frightening resemblance. Actually, _appearance_ , Steve thought with a grim face. Like a monster left to devour the next idiots brave - _dumb?_ \- enough to enter this godforsaken place.  
Her muzzle also didn’t hide the bruises on her skin, matching the blue of her eyes. For a moment, Steve was alarmed. One of her eyes gleamed in a way it shouldn’t have, it even looked like it glowed, but he blamed it on the rays of sun suddenly peeking through the cracked windows.  
It looked blue, bluer than he’d ever seen in eye colors, before returning to a very normal shade much like Bucky’s. The other eye, however, seemed dull, too gray in its entirety before returning to a normal blue.  
No matter the eye color, both eyes looked hostile. They shot more than just daggers at the people around the woman. Natasha stepped back a few steps, never letting her eyes stray from the woman in chains.  
The latter’s head turned towards Steve, who’d wanted to soothe her by explaining their actions. But she rushed at him, like a sharp dog, hissing like a feral cat. The chains rattled and Bucky pulled the blond out of her reach. There was something inhuman about the woman, besides the low growl.  
_She’s ready to kill_ , Steve thought. Either he was going completely illusional by the tiredness lining his own body or he actually saw sharp teeth behind the muzzle, he couldn’t tell. Her nostrils flared and if the chains hadn’t been, he imagined hell would’ve already broken loose in here, like in Bucharest, with the special task force coming after Bucky.

Barnes started mumbling something in Russian, soft and slow, like a quiet melody, a song meant to say more than a lifetime of words. She quieted down, her bloody wrists still twisting in the handcuffs, but her face was focused on his and her whole body language pointed at him.  
He stood before her now, still out of reach, because her muscles were taut. She couldn’t be trusted when standing tense like the pulled string of a bow.  
Steve could’ve sworn he sweated underneath his uniform. _How would they get her back to their base?_  
Natasha solved that question with an elbow to the Remnant’s neck which sent her back into unconsciousness. On the one hand, Steve was relieved, on the other, he doubted this was the solution.  
“Nat. There was no need-”  
“Oh yeah? What were you gonna do? Sing lullabies all the way back? We know she’s alive and dangerous. Enough so to keep her locked up until we can fix - this.”  
The redhead shot a look to Bucky, who still stared at the young woman.  
“Tell Rogers I’m right.”  
“I guess”, he shrugged. “At least it’s less of a struggle this way.”

Bucky carried her onto the jet. Before, they’d put on the harness, after yet another discussion. She was heavier than he expected, even without any metal appendages and after two weeks of hunger. Bucky didn’t say anything when her shirt slipped upwards, revealing a pattern of bruises on her pale skin. His eyes fell on the muzzle and it pained him to see this device on her face, especially when he still felt what it meant to wear one of them. It screamed animal and it cost him one hell of an effort to not take it off. But he had noticed the sharpness of her teeth as well and definitely wasn’t keen on them sinking into his skin. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, during his time with Hydra.  
When the chains rattled again, he swore to himself that he’d destroy them as soon as he could. They wound around her neck, pulled her upper arms and her wrists behind her back, connecting there, restricting all her movements, but apparently didn’t keep her from curling up against the wall of the jet.  
The Soviet assassin swallowed hard when Steve sat down next to him.  
“I have a theory”, the super soldier started.  
“She’s not Becca. I’m sure, Steve.”  
“I believe you, Buck. Is there anything else you remember about her though? About her past, how Hydra found her?”  
Long pause.

Bucky didn’t need to think about that for long, he’d rather avoid that topic entirely. It was just another point on his _“everything I regret about the last 70 years“_ -list. He sensed that Steve already assumed things, but he also knew his friend gave him the freedom to decide against saying them.  
But things usually get worse when you keep them inside. Speaking them out loud can prevent horrible stuff sometimes. He swallowed hard, words beginning to echo in his mind again, he’d heard them when everything was a blur, but he’d heard them, so they felt it was their duty to torment him in every possible way.   
“ _I did_. Chased her and her siblings down in New York after killing her father.  Took me three weeks, they were sneaky children and good at hiding. Couldn’t kill her, got a wiping and turned her into a monster like me. 1964.”  
He raised his eyes to meet Steve. There was some much insecurity in them, Steve almost cried out.  
“I don’t blame you, Buck, you know that.”  
“What do you believe in that you can look past all that? There is so much I did and”, Bucky sighed, “… so much, Steve. It’s just so much. So much blood. So much death.”  
“I know you’d fix it if you had the chance. But maybe this is it. Turn her into your new hope. You have my forgiveness, what else do you need?”  
Bucky sat quietly after these words, but he sent a kind smile towards Steve.  
_My own forgiveness. But you can’t give me that.  
_ “So, what is your theory?”  
“She’s Becca’s daughter.”  
Of course. It made sense. Complete sense. The resemblance. The age. She was born in the 40s, just after the war. The mark on her arm, displaying the old SSR emblem with Peggy’s signature (this one still didn’t make that much sense to him). The mole on her finger, a Barnes’ family trait. The sun gleamed through the windows, lighting up the jet’s inside.  
  
“It’s a possibility”, Bucky agreed. “That would make her… my niece.”  
“It would make her _family_.”


	19. After-Credits 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA! ANOTHER AFTER CREDITS! WHY? BECAUSE… MARVEL. :) have fun, leave a comment! thank you, guys! WOOP. This is it. This was the last little part I had for Remnants. I mean, you can stay seated if you want (if you don't trust Marvel, like me), but that was really the last part (I promise).
> 
> Song Choice: Graven Image by Zack Hemsey

_Also, check out my[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/s.bergen/playlist/3I3bA0JAP2SQ6lcokmxouA) I put together for this fic. _   
_(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)_

 

* * *

 

 

When Bucky had pointed out how that one scar on the neck was missing on this girl, Natasha’s trained eye had noticed a different scar on her back, through one of the cuts in the rag that she didn’t dare to call _shirt_. She knew how Hydra hid technology in their subjects. She’d also felt on her own body how they ensured complete control over their assets. So, she decided to get rid of the chip in the Remnants’ back, just in case it was a tracker. They couldn’t afford company. Of course, the chip still needed to be checked for its functionality, but for now all the Russian worried about was the group’s safety.

A knife wasn’t hard to find among all the soldiers and the first aid kit contained antiseptics plus needle and thread for stitches.  
Before anyone even noticed, Natasha’s skillful fingers dug out a little metallic piece that didn’t look special, but could’ve held secrets worth millions. A little blue light emanated from the upper side. It was embedded into the girl’s flesh, in a little skin bag, but Natasha cut it out effortlessly.  
Alarmed by the smell of fresh blood, Bucky rushed into the room. His eyes widened when he saw Natasha just cleaning up the stitched skin.  
“What did you do!?“  
“Probably saved our asses. This thing could’ve cost us our well-deserved rest plus the safety and stealth we enjoy right now.“  
She held up the little chip up in the air. The little blue light had turned red, blinking a little faster.  
The girl on the ground stirred for a moment, then returned to motionless sleep.  
All Bucky could say was, “Shit. You shouldn’t have done that.“  
Realization or maybe even memories must’ve hit him right then because his forehead creased and he started bellowing orders. Natasha felt like she witnessed a different side of him, one long buried, when he started commanding her around.  
“Get me sedatives, now! This is gonna be one hell of a flight.“  
“Dosis?“  
“The one prepped for Steve.“


	20. The Playlist

> **_The Playlist_ **

  
_1/ Graven Image - Zack Hemsey_

_2/ Soothsayer - Zack Hemsey_

_3/ Atlas: Sorrow - Sleeping At Last_

_4/ Run Boy Run - Woodkid_

_5/ Nice To Meet Me (Instrumental) - Zack Hemsey_

_6/ That Which You Seek (Finds You) - Zack Hemsey_

_7/ Fade Away - Zack Hemsey_

_8/ Teachings of A Ronin - Zack Hemsey_

_9/ Faith - Sleeping At Last_

_10/ Eye of the Storm - X Ambassadors_

_11/ Mind Heist - Zack Hemsey_

_12/ Vengeance - Zack Hemsey_

_13/ Who Are You, Really? - Mikky Ekko_

_14/ Hydra - Henry Jackman_

_15/ Slave (Instrumental) - Zack Hemsey_

_16/ Graven Image - Zack Hemsey_

_17/ Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Lorde_

_18/ Greeting The Menace (Instrumental) - Zack Hemsey_

_19/ Silver Crimson Black - Zack Hemsey_

_20/ This is Our Legacy - Zack Hemsey_

_21/ I Can Get It Back (Instrumental) - Zack Hemsey_

_22/ See What I’ve Become - Zack Hemsey_

_23/ Graven Image - Zack Hemsey_


	21. Feedback?

Hey guys,

it's been a while since I posted this story and I am actually a little surprised by the lack of comments and feedback. I won't request that you feedback me, or comment, and I don't want to make you feel like you have to, but I would really, really appreciate a sentence, maybe a thought, about my writing, just something that tells me that you actually read the fic, and what you liked about it and what you thought while reading it (bc this fic has over 900 hits, so someone must've finished it?).

Yes, I am aware that some time has passed since Captain America: Civil War entered the theatres and that by now, we've been given Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2, Spiderman: Homecoming, Thor: Ragnarok, and Black Panther. I am aware that, additionally, Avengers: Infinity War Part One is on the horizon, I know, I know, but still, this story is still relevant to me and to many others out there and is supposed to kind of fit in between the Marvel Cinematic Universe stories.

C'mon, Captain America/ Marvel fanbase, where are you? I have written the fic for myself, I know, but I don't think you guys hated it (at least not all of it?).

Please, leave a comment, it really means more to me that you'd think. Thank you so much!

\- Sophia


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